


Hashiki's Quest

by cincoflex



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Botany, F/M, Wise women, bickering romance, naughty goats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoflex/pseuds/cincoflex
Summary: When Doctor Hashiki M'Wanga seeks to restore the heart-shaped herb, her mission takes her into Jabari territory. Will she succeed, or will the leader make her life difficult?





	1. Chapter 1

The summons was real.

Doctor Hashiki M’Wanga gave a barely audible squeak, checking the note again, hoping it was one of Shuri’s pranks but no, the official gold seal was genuine. The courier who’d delivered it stood waiting to carry back her reply, and seeing no way out of it, Hashiki nodded.

“Yes, I will be at the throne room at the appointed time,” she told the other woman, trying to keep her voice from quavering. “Thank you.”

The courier nodded and slipped out of the lab silently; Hashiki was sure the woman was snickering at her timidity. With a sigh, Hashiki looked at the page again.

_T’Challa, ruler of Wakanda has requested your presence this afternoon for tea and council._

Tea she understood—nearly everyone in the capital took time in the afternoon to stop and enjoy a cup of mint or red bush tea while socializing. Hashiki herself was quite proud of some of the varieties she’d had a hand in blending and creating; a side hobby her grandmother encouraged. River Smooth was her personal favorite, with mint and a hint of lemongrass to it, although it wasn’t as popular as Bouncy, which had red bush with dried cherry orange in it . . .

Hashiki realized she was drifting off in an attempt not to fret. Taking a breath, she set the summons down.

“Council. So the king of Wakanda wants my advice,” she murmured to herself. “But about what?”

It was a fair question, Hashiki thought. Since the King had opened Wakanda to the world all sorts of new trade and science collaborations had been springing up. She’d sat in on some of the agricultural committees, dutifully reporting on crop harvests from the hydroponic labs and the shielded greenhouses around the capital city. Most of that part of her work was dull, to be honest, and there were many scientists more qualified to talk to the outside world about such topics.

She was a researcher, Hashiki reminded herself. A dedicated student of vibranium-enhanced botany with an emphasis on the mystical isityalo senhliziyo—the heart-shaped herb. Not that there was much of it left after the false king had ordered it destroyed. The fire had damaged something to the chlorophyll/vibranium osmosis in the survivors that affected the herb’s capacity to bloom. Oh the grotto had vines aplenty but few potent leaves and for the moment no blossoms.

“It will return,” the keepers kept trying to reassure her, but as the weeks went on they said it less often, and Hashiki felt responsible.

Well, not for the destruction, but for the inability to fix it.

“Demethi! I bet it’s about the herb,” Hashiki muttered to herself. “Of course, that’s why he wants to see me and not Lelethu, or Deliwe.”

She was so preoccupied with figuring how to explain the damage in layman’s terms that she didn’t hear the light, quick footsteps approaching her.

“’Shiki! So you’re coming to tea!” came Shuri’s chirp. “And that means you’re bringing it too, right?”

“What?” she looked up to see her former student, the princess of Wakanda grinning at her from the doorway to the lab. Shuri had a mischievous expression, which Hashiki knew from past experience was a danger signal.

“We’re going to tea with my brother and give him a hard time,” Shuri insisted sweetly. “Because.”

“Because why?” Hashiki wanted to know, smiling despite her trepidation.

“Because he and Nakia were out walking late last night so I’m sure he will be wearing a high collar today.” She drifted into the lab.

“Shuri!” Hashiki chided, even though she was smirking herself, “That’s hardly our business!”

“It is the prerogative of a princess to temper a king so he can deal with whatever future strife he may encounter,” Shuri replied. “Besides, it’s fun.”

“It’s dangerous,” Hashiki countered, leaning against one of the lab counters as she watched Shuri drop her lean frame onto a stool. “One of these days he’s just going to snap and banish you to some remote corner until you learn not to needle him.”

“Never,” Shuri blithely dismissed the idea. “He needs me and my technology too much. Besides, I have to put up with all those comments about decorum and tradition already. Did you know he’s already threatening to saddle me with To-ny Stark? Imagine! I have real work to do, and no time to babysit some fur-faced toy robot builder!”

Hashiki shook her head. “Have you met Mr. Stark?”

“I don’t have to,” Shuri grumbled. “I’m sure he’s as full of himself as all those other colonizers out there.”

The faintly biased remark hung in the silence for a moment. 

“Well it’s good you’re keeping an open mind,” Hashiki chided softly. “Come on, Shuri; there are worthwhile people outside of Wakanda. Don’t let your ego blind you to that, eh?”

“You’re right,” the princess sighed. “I sup-pose.”

 _Sixteen,_ Hashiki thought wryly. _The girl had so much still to learn._

*** *** ***

The throne room was nearly as imposing as the king himself, Hashiki thought, settling herself into the indicated chair. T’Challa was smiling at her which helped put her at ease, but Hashiki wasn’t fooled. His shoulders looked tense.

“Doctor M’Wanga, thank you for coming,” he murmured to her. “I appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Hashiki managed despite her nervousness. They’d only met a few times prior and she was sure she hadn’t made that much of an impression. Short, plump, shy— she was not exactly a stand-out, Hashiki knew. Across from her, Shuri sat with a tablet in her hands, her attention on the screen as the three of them waited for tea to be served. Hashiki managed a smile, hoping the king would keep speaking so she didn’t have to, but he seemed a little lost in thought so she waited, trying not to squirm.

“Shuri tells me you are working on the issue with the _isityalo senhliziyo_ ,” T’Challa finally murmured, looking at her as the attendant with the tea cart rolled it forward. Already the sweet scent of freshly baked pumpkin rusks and hot tea made her mouth water.

“Ah yes, your Highness,” Hashiki replied. “While the fire damage was extensive we have several vines that survived and we are studying them now.”

“But,” T’Challa reached for the rounded gourd pot and poured for the three of them, “No blossoms.”

“Regrettably, not yet,” Hashiki admitted. “The leaves are full, though, and the vascular tissue of the vines themselves is in good shape despite intermittent scorching. I worry that the heat may have caused more damage than mere boiling of the internal fluids, that somehow it has changed the symbiotic relationship of the vibranium and the sap.”

Glancing at the king she realized he was nodding; clearly T’Challa had kept up on her reports and that pleased her. 

“What are your next steps?” he wanted to know. 

Hashiki stirred her tea and sipped before answering. “Cuttings to start new plants seem a good one, and I would like a chance to collect any related vines throughout Wakanda. I know most are not the same tribe but a few are by family varieties so they may help revitalize the _isityalo senhliziyo_ through inosculation.”

“Grafting,” Shuri translated for her brother as she finally looked up.

“Yes I know,” T’Challa replied patiently. “I _do_ understand something about botany.”

“And biology. That’s certainly a tall neckline you’re wearing today,” his sister remarked with a smirk.

The king didn’t rise to the bait, Hashiki noticed; he ignored his sister and kept his attention on her. “Good then. What would you need to accomplish this?”

Hashiki considered this for a moment. “Ah . . . well I know the cuttings can be handled by the keepers, who are already working on them, but I suppose I’d need to head into the field to collect the specimens I have in mind—there are some areas near Mount Kanda of course and around the river settlements . . . and along the Serpent Valley.”

“Serpent Valley,” Shuri echoed, looking a little more wary. “Tell me you aren’t going over the Chasm. _Please_ tell me you aren’t.”

Hashiki gave a shrug. “I must go were the vines are, Shuri.”

“Yes but that’s within Jabari land,” she pointed out with a little shiver. “Not exactly a fun place. ‘Challa don’t send her there please!”

“Shuri, if that’s where she must go . . .” T’Challa murmured. “Will you need a team?”

“Hardly,” Hashiki shrugged. “If I was collecting something large, like trees or rhinos that would be one thing but vines don’t either take time or strength, your Highness.”

Shuri shook her head. “I haven’t forgotten what it was like to hike that route,” she grumbled. “OR the reception we got.”

“In the end M’Baku came to the defense of our country,” T’Challa reminded his sister. “That’s what matters.”

“He kept you like a prize catch, laid out on a bed of ice!” Shuri protested. “You looked like the front window display for the fish market!”

Hashiki fought hard not to laugh; T’Challa looked pained. He finally turned to glare at his sister. “Amazing how it ended up saving my life, eh? Primitive cryogenics but effective.”

Shuri didn’t want to agree but ultimately rolled her eyes. “Fine. I just . . . I just never felt comfortable there.”

“I don’t think anyone is supposed to,” Hashiki admitted. “I have one contact there and of course we correspond by scroll since she has no electronics, but if anyone knows whether where the vines are in that corner of Wakanda, she does.”

“Good,” T’Challa murmured. “I will request safe passage for you and we will see if the leader of the Jabari will agree to it for the good of Wakanda. More tea?”

 

*** *** ***

Three weeks later Hashiki leaned against an African Cherry tree and contemplated the lone bridge over the Chasm of the Chilling Mist. Up this high the air was cool and the sunlight thin; she tried not to shiver. She’d hiked for the better part of three days, trying not to draw attention since her mission was supposed to be low-key.

Hashiki pulled her purple shawl off and shook her braids down as she opened her knapsack, rooting around for the rolled piece of papyrus there.

_Sister of the plants; fellow guardian of the green, greeting!  
I have convinced our chief that your quest is worthy and that we should greet your coming with delight, read the note. I look forward to your arrival and the chance to rejoice in our aligned paths. You will be under the protection of my band—the Tsawa-- for the duration of your visit. _

_Travel safe,_

_Mai Hikima_

Hashiki slowly rolled the scroll up again, comforted by the words. She looked again towards the rope bridge, searching for any sign of life, but nothing moved beyond a few birds and from here she could hear the howl of the wind through the deep canyon.

The bridge didn’t bother her; Hashiki wasn’t afraid of heights. What was scared her at the moment was being without technology. She’d left behind all her electronics, assuring Shuri she’d be fine without them but now she wasn’t so sure. At the moment all Hashiki had with her beyond some food, coins, and clothing was an antique field kit packed for her by one of the elder tenders of the vines.

“From my great-grandmother’s time,” the old woman had told her with a troubled smile. “A selection of cutting tools, preservatives, cures and powders. To be honest, doctor, I’m not sure how to use some of them myself!”

However, Hashiki knew how to use everything in the crocodile hide box, even if she hadn’t done it in a while. She even knew the ancient prayers to recite for each process; a fact that amused her.  
_Once a student, always a student,_ Hashiki thought to herself. She pushed herself up from the tree and dusted her plump backside before re-wrapping her shawl and picking up her knapsack. Slowly she made her way to the rope and wood bridge, looking now to the far end.

“Greetings! I am a guest requesting safe passage!” she called, hoping she could be heard across the gulf.

“Go away, stranger!” came a deep male voice in Hausa. The man stepped out from a distance copse of trees, a spear in hand.

“I am a _guest_!” Hashiki repeated. “Under the protection of Mai Hikima of the Tsawa band!”

For long moments they stood staring at each other over the chasm, and Hashiki waited nervously. Another man joined the first one and they spoke too softly for her to hear but after a few minutes the first man stepped to the bridge and rested his spear across it.

“Cross then, and take the oath, Tsawa-child!”

“Child!” Hashiki grumbled. She swung her knapsack onto her shoulder and gripped the rope sides of the bridge, making her way across in steady steps against the sway. The view was spectacular and Hashiki wished she could linger and admire it, but duty called. When she reached the other side, the spear was still across the posts, blocking her way.

The man looked down at her, his gaze slightly amused. “You must take the oath to enter.”

“What oath?”

“The oath to defend the Jabari way of life while you are here,” the man told her. “The _Rantsuwa._ ”

“But I don’t know it!” Hashiki pointed out. “It’s not posted on the other side.”

The man considered this. “Do you promise to respect that which makes the Jabari as we are?”

That was easy; Hashiki nodded, adding, “Yes, of course.”

“Do you promise to defend our land while you are here sharing its bounty and beauty?”

“Yes, that’s reasonable.”

“And do you promise to share whatever food is in your bag?”

She looked up, startled, and the man gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, it’s been a long time since breakfast and I’m hungry. That last part isn’t officially part of the oath.”

He was hardly a man despite his size, she realized; still very much a boy in a bigger body with a sweet grin.

Hashiki laughed, and dug into her bag, producing two lumps of fried bread. The man took them, offering gracious thanks as he moved the spear. “I will repay your kindness as soon as I am done with bridge duty, Tsawa-child.”

“I’m not a child,” Hashiki protested as she stepped off the bridge. “I am Doctor Hashiki M’Wanga of the Institute for Achievement!” The second man had disappeared, presumably to announce her arrival somewhere beyond the trees.

“It’s not an insult,” the man told her. “As soon as Mai Hikima recognizes you we _will_ acknowledge your name. Until then . . .” he added, “I am Karfi, son of the Magoya.”

“Ah,” Hashiki nodded, accepting this. “I . . . I thought she would be here, to greet me.”

Karfi looked wary even as he nibbled on one of the puffs. “Mai Hikima does things in her own time and at her own speed. If you follow the path around the hills you will be met as due your honor, Tsawa-child. I, however, must stay here.”

“Very well. I take it my oath suffices?”

“Yes, as does your cooking,” he assured her. Hashiki rolled her eyes and strode past him, trying not to giggle. Karfi reminded her of some of her students and that helped quell her nervousness. Boys would be boys everywhere, she realized with amusement.

The walk was longer than she realized and long a gradual downhill slope. Among the trees Hashiki spotted a towering Camphorwood, a cluster of Muna, a few more African Cherry and smaller pines. Moss grew abundantly along the rocky boulders in a patchwork of velvety greens and greys while underfoot the path held the sweet flex of good composting.

She was impressed. Someone else might think this was unspoiled wilderness but Hashiki sensed a balance to the greenery that spoke of careful cultivation probably over several generations. Someone had an eye for composition and she made a promise to herself to find out who as she reached a spot where the path widened, opening to a riverstone plaza sheltered by a green lattice bower overhead.

It was market day, Hashiki saw, and a few people looked her way but most continued with whatever shopping or selling that they were in the middle of. A wide wicker pillar cage held singing birds and the scent of cinnamon drifted in the air.

“Doc-tor M’Wanga?” came a rusty squeak of a question. Hashiki looked to the tiny woman walking her way, making steady use of a carved stone staff. “Hashiki?”

“Mai Hikima?” Hashiki responded, startled. She’d always assumed that her correspondent was her age or a little older, not this ancient doll-sized crone with hair like a dandelion puff and a dazzling white smile.

“Surprised, eh?” the woman laughed creakily. “You are, too; I can tell. Yes, I’m Mai Hikima and I will be ninety-two by next month! Don’t worry; I won’t die for another ten years so we don’t have to rush your visit!” she laughed again at her joke and Hashiki joined in, caught off-guard but delighted just the same. 

Mai Hikima reached up and hugged Hashiki, her embrace strong. “I am glad you are here! So many letters over the last two years and I wondered if I would ever get to meet you! How is your sister?”

Hashiki made a face. “Still as haughty as ever of course! And Laki?”

Mai Hikima laughed, sounding like a rusty gate. “That one is as bad as ever! He got into my firemint and ate half of it before he realized his mistake! That goat sneezed for three days!”

Hashiki laughed, shaking her head. “Yet you still keep him?”

“I must,” Mai Hikima shrugged with a grin. “He’s the only one who can pull my cart! Come, let us get your name called and then I can offer you some tea while you rest. It’s been a long walk, I know.”

Mai Hikima took Hashiki’s hand and led her to the middle of the plaza, making her way to the centermost stone, which was raised by a few feet. Climbing up, Mai Hikima stood and waved her arms, her staff swinging in the air. In the market, people paused and looked at her; some with amusement, others with clear respect in their gazes.

“Let the word be shared that this one---“ Mai Hikima pointed the staff at Hashiki, nearly hitting her with it, “— Hashiki M’Wanga, is under the care of the Tsawa! Accept her among us . . . or _fight_ me now!”

A cheerful roar went up through the plaza and a few people applauded. Nobody challenged her and Hashiki realized that this feisty little woman was clearly beloved in her community. A few people came forward to help her down again, patting her shoulders gently.

“Ha!” Mai Hikima chuckled triumphantly. “Cowards all of you!”

“Oh we fear you as much as we respect you, Mace Mai Hikima,” one man told her, his eyes twinkling.

“See that you do, M’Dasu!” came her response. She grinned at Hashiki, who grinned back.

“I’m a terrible bully,” she confessed, “Striking terror in all their hearts. See how they cower.”

Hashiki giggled. They made their way across the plaza slowly because Mai Hikima stopped every few feet to chat and introduce Hashiki to folks. Most were politely friendly, pressing small gifts of bananas and other produce on her. By the time they made it to the little cart on the far side of the plaza, both women were carrying enough fruit to feed a dozen people.

“So generous,” Hashiki murmured. “I’m touched.”

Mai Hikima nodded. “Well-brought up, most of them. Laki, stop eating my basket!”

The huge black goat looked up, shaking his head a little, strands of hemp hanging from his lips. Mai Hikima tottered closer and glared at him. “You are a disgrace!”

Defiantly the glossy goat kept chewing as his owner set her armful of fruit into the basket and shifted it to the back of the cart. “Mind your shawl,” she warned Hashiki. “He’s interested in tasting _everything_ , wicked beast.”

“And here I thought you were exaggerating,” Hashiki gave the goat a gentle patting.

“Hardly. I have to keep him back here, away from the stalls because Mr. Greedy isn’t above getting his face into every place he can reach. Come on, up with you,” she urged Hashiki, motioning to the seat in the cart.

“Mai Hikima!” Shocked, Hashiki shook her head, “I can walk!”

“So can I, but Laki can pull us both as punishment for what he’s done,” Mai Hikima pointed out. “He’s a big lazy monster who needs the exercise.”


	2. Chapter 2

After climbing in, they settled off at a steady amble up a road that curved through a gully and began to climb one hill. Hashiki admired the view even as she tried to keep up with Mai Hakima’s questions. Yes the King was serious about letting strangers visit the country; no, she didn’t think if his Highness was crazy; yes the Dora Milaje were being extra vigilant these days; yes the false king’s last wish had been carried out.

Mai Hikima shook her head. “How it must weigh on the queen mother’s heart,” she sighed. “To have lost two of her tribe in so short a time.”

Hashiki made a little murmur of agreement. N’Jadaka had been dangerous to a ferocious degree, but he had _also_ been of the royal line, twisted as it may have grown.

The cart slowed, pulling up to a door unlike any that Hashiki had ever seen. As her hostess unhitched the goat and herded him into a little pen, she looked up at the waterfall of green vines that hung from what looked like a cave mouth, marveling at the pale coral trumpet flowers that filled the air with a lovely scent. A few fat bees buzzed about and she climbed out of the cart to study the cascade further.

_“Uzuko iwasekuseni_ ?” She asked, cupping a hand under one heavy blossom and bending to sniff it.

Mai Hikima shook her head. “I don’t know the name in Xhosa. Here it’s called _farkon tashi_. It’s a good grower in both upward and downward directions. I’ve trained them on jute cords and they make a fine screen for most of the year.” The little woman tugged on the vine furthest to the right, and Hashiki saw that the entire wall of vines swing open since they were woven on a doorframe of top to bottom lines much like a living loom. Behind it was another door of thick rattan with a pull latch. She wanted to study the marvelous screen door further, but Mai Hakima was urging her in.

She expected it to be dark and cramped inside, as caves were, but the main room spacious and well-lit. Hashiki looked up and saw two parallel tracks of square skylights set into the ceiling. “Oh how _ingenious_ !”

Mai Hikima glanced up. “What? The glass?”

“The design,” Hashiki pointed out. “Using refraction to light your home.”

The older woman gave a wry smile. “We may be old-fashioned when it comes to technology, but we’re not stupid. Prismatics are a common-sense way to use daylight here inside the mountains, eh?”

“I just thought . . . .” Hashiki began, and stopped, feeling her face go hot.

Mai Hikima shook her head. “You just thought the Jabari were backward and primitive, like so many others. We’re _not_ , we simply choose to stay close to the simple nature of the world, Hashiki. Not everyone goes into the future at the same pace, yes?”

“True,” Hashiki murmured, chagrined. “I’m so sorry for my assumption, Mai Hikima, I am.”

The older woman took her hand, squeezing it. She smiled up into Hashiki’s face. “I _know_ you are, dear friend. Wakanda is big enough for all of us—our beliefs, our cultures, our tribes. We are strong precisely because we are not all the same. Here in the hills of the White Gorilla the people tend to walk slower but we get where we are going eventually. Tea?”

“Yes please. Oh, I _have_ some for you!” Hashiki dug in her bag and produced a printed cloth roll with pockets. “Some of the Bounce that I mentioned, and Morning Green, and my grandmother’s favorite, Oooh.”

“Oooh?” Mai Hikima smiled

“Oooh,” Hashiki giggled. “From the first sip that’s what she said so that’s what we both call it.”

“Ooooh it shall be then. Don’t tell me what’s in it; I’ll guess.” 

They took tea upstairs on a little porch carved out looking over the gully and Hashiki felt better once she had a cup in front of her. The stone floor underfoot was smooth and Hashiki admired the way the room had been constructed of fitted wood beams. Her hostess had brought out a plate of berry-speckled fancies and kept urging Hashiki to have more than one.

She took a sip and purred. “I can see why your grandmother named it so. I taste orange and rose?”

“And a little cardamom,” Hashiki nodded. “It’s good chilled too.”

“Yes, I can believe that,” Mai Hikima agreed.

They spent the afternoon talking, comparing notes and laughing as the mid-day stretched out into afternoon. Finally the older woman gave a little sigh and rose up from her chair.

“Time to start the afternoon meal I think. Let me show you to your room and you can have a rest.”

Hashiki was about to object but thought better of it; she _was_ tired and a nap sounded wonderful. She followed Mai down the carved stairs and across the room to another door of wood pieces fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. “A gift from an old admirer,” Mai Hikima told her when she caught Hashiki’s interested glance. “This way . . . .”

They stepped into the room and the first thing Hashiki saw was a bed. A bed with a sleeping man on it. Not only was he snoring softly, he was also the biggest man she’d ever seen in her life, looking like a mountain himself as he lay sprawled on his back completely out of it.

Hashiki froze, but Mai Hikima drew in a deep breath and grumbled. She tottered forward and reached over to grip the man’s left ear. “You are _embarrassing_ me, child!” the old woman barked at him.

The man woke with a start, tensing, and Hashiki noted that he’d reached for a weapon even as his eyes opened. Mai Hikima cackled as he did so, still gripping his ear. “Spear me and you won’t make it to the door, child. I would hunt you down like a cockroach!”

The man’s rumble belied the twinkle in his eyes. “Babba, yes I am terrified. Now let go.”

“Coming in here and making yourself at home!” Mai Hikima went on in her mock-outrage. “I have a GUEST, in case you forgot, which clearly you did. _Move_ your monstrous behind right now!”

“How can I move when you’re hanging onto my ear?” he asked, and finally caught sight of Hashiki. He stiffened and swinging one arm around Mai Hikima gently pulled her grip away from his ear as he sat up, clearly embarrassed to be seen. “Ah,” he managed, at a loss for words.

Mai Hikima laughed again, her voice like a creaking gate. “Ah? Ah? What kind of a polite greeting is that for my _dear_ friend Doc-tor Hashiki M’Wanga? Anyone would think that you were raised by meerkats!”

“Welcome to the home of the Jabari here in the White Mountains,” the man rumbled, getting to his feet. He kept going up and Hashiki tipped her head back, feeling slightly faint; while most of the people she’d met so far were tall, none were quite this height. He even blocked out the skylight.

“Th-thank you,” she managed, holding out a hand. He hesitated then took it, and the degree of warmth that radiated from his touch startled Hashiki. Mai Hikima came around from behind the giant and tsked.

“His name is M’Baku Iko Tsawa but to me he will _always_ be my little grandson Yaro.”

“Bab-ba,” the man muttered, clearly mortified. “Not _now_. Your fence is mended and I finished laying the stones along the back path for you. Now I must take my leave.”

“Fine. Good,” Mai Hikima told him, prodding his hip. “And next time do your napping at your _own_ house, child. Thank you.”

Hashiki stepped back to let the man pass but he turned instead to his grandmother. Bowing down he took the old woman’s hand and pressed her palm to his forehead in a quick and familiar gesture. “Babba mine,” he murmured respectfully.

“Grandson mine,” she returned approvingly. “Go in blessing.”

Hashiki watched as he rose up again, gave her a nod and strode out of the room without another word. For a moment nobody spoke, and then Mai Hikima gave a little chuckle.

“He watches out for me, that one.”

“Wait . . . the grandson you’ve been writing to me about all this time—little Yaro---THAT is him?” Hashiki blurted, a fresh wave of hilarity and embarrassment rising in her.

Mai Hikima, who was smoothing a hand over the quilt looked up and nodded. “One and the same.”

“He’s _not_ little!” Hashiki protested. “By Bast’s claws that one could look a giraffe eye to eye!”

“The boy always was good about finishing his vegetables,” Mai Hikima snickered. “Come, rest and we’ll have dinner in a while and I’ll show you my workshop where we can set up a corner for you.”

Moments later Hashiki kicked off her sandals and stretched out, a little overwhelmed by the day. The bed was still warm, and she felt slightly scandalous in enjoying it—it had been a long time since she’d savored a man’s warmth. _Perhaps too long,_ she admitted to herself. Still, Hashiki knew she had a job to do and it didn’t involve big burly grandsons in any way.

_A pity though,_ she smirked to herself, and drifted off.

*** *** *** 

The next morning was busy indeed. Hashiki had given herself a week to forage the most likely vines and take samples and in all the other areas of Wakanda she’d been able to use the local science facilities to classify and cultivate what she’d found but here in the mountains Hashiki found that the microscopes were all manual, and the preservation system consisted of refrigeration, not stasis fields.

“I will have to send my findings back by courier!” she told Mai Hikima, who shrugged.

“We have plenty of runners already, and relays through most of the villages across the bridge. Your specimens will reach the capital in fine time, I know they will.”

“I suppose,” Hashiki agreed dubiously. It was mid-morning and they were standing in the middle of one of the community gardens where she’d spotted a likely contender curling up one of the bean poles, blossoms peeping among the developing pods. It was smaller than the herb though, and the tiny blooms were a light lavender in the daylight.

A little girl with dark hair like a dandelion puff came up and hugged Mai Hikima. “Babba Tsawa! I lothst the other toooth!” She grinned, showing the double gap where her front teeth had been before spotting Hashiki and becoming shy, hiding her face.

“Good for you!” Hashiki murmured, amused.

“Yes, you look magnificent, Cisi !” Mai Hikima agreed, “now you have _fangs_ !”

This pleased the girl, who grinned again, proudly. “Yefffff!” she ran off again and the two women watched her, both of them smiling.

“She helps me weed sometimes, and her father makes the _best_ spicy groundnuts . . . oh to be young enough to run like that again!”

“What we lose in mobility we make up for with focus,” Hashiki countered. “Besides, I don’t plan on losing any more teeth if I can help it.” She plucked one of the little blossoms and dropped it into a hollowed gourd filled with water and preservatives from her kit, adding a few leaves and a section of stem.

Mai Hikima watched her, nodding. “And I have lost far too many as it is. So that’s the fifth specimen today . . . I think we should head back and get cleaned up before we go to the throne room.”

Hashiki nodded. “It’s just a formality though, yes? I mean I do have permission to do this work without it?” She didn’t mean for her remark to sound like a question but it came out as one.

Mai Hikima waggled her white eyebrows. “Oh I’m sure you do . . . the leader listened to me when I spoke of your visit. I have his ear, you might say.”

Completely distracted by a ladybug crawling on her arm, Hashiki nodded. “Oh good then. I brought one capulana to wear just in case—do you think I should change?”

From the wry look the older woman gave her, the answer was clear. “I think,” Mai Hikima replied, “If you change into a pretty capulana, you will _definitely_ make an impression on our leader.”

Hashiki made a face. “So he’s a playboy?”

“Not really,” Mai Hikima seemed to be delighed with some private joke, “He simply needs to see a good thing in its best light, so to speak.”

And it wasn’t until later, when Hashiki stepped into the long hall of Sacred Wood to face the man at the other end that she finally understood why Mai Hikima was so amused.


	3. Chapter 3

It was hard to reconcile the imposing figure slouched on the throne with the one that had been sprawled out on his grandmother’s guest bed, but Hashiki knew they were one and the same. Same gigantic shoulders, same short beard, same big brown eyes, but instead of being in an old dashiki and trousers, the man before her now wore leather armor with a gorilla fur cape and heavy furred gauntlets on each massive forearm. Along each side of the throne stood spear-armed guards, all watching her.

She took a breath, trying to steady herself and remember why she was here. Hashiki stepped forward, only to be stopped by a sharp, deep command. “Stop! Who brings this stranger to me?”

“ _I_ do,” Mai Hikima replied, her usually warm voice stern. “Mace Mai Hikima, great mother of the T’Sawa tribe and n’ganga to the Jabari.”

In the undertone was a warning as well, and Hashiki tried not to grin; clearly Mai Hikima was a little exasperated.

“Come forward,” came the order, and Hashiki took three steps, finding herself looking up at the leader, who was definitely not smiling. He studied her for a long moment, not moving, not blinking, not saying a word.

Definitely unnerving. Hashiki knew in theory who he was—she’d heard the name M’Baku and of what he and the Jabari had done in the battle to save Wakanda, but like so many citizens of the capital she hadn’t actually _seen_ him. He and his warriors had returned to their mountains soon after the defeat of the false king, not even staying for the victory feast or the ceremonies for the fallen. Hashiki herself had been so caught up in the catastrophe of the heart-shaped herb that little else had mattered to her at the time.

“Speak!” came the bark. “Who are you, and why should I grant you safe passage here?”

“I . . .” Hashiki began, “I am Hashiki M’Wanga, daughter of the Priests of Wakanda. I come because I seek to heal the _isityalo senhliziyo_.”

M’Baku continued to stare at her, and Hashiki felt a little sweat trickle at her temples despite the chill of the mountain air; she hoped her tribal paint of white stars across her forehead wasn’t smearing. Dimly she noticed the hanging wood branches that formed the room and wondered what they were . . . Patula? Balanites? Some undiscovered pine?

“And why should _we_ , the Jabari, care?” he boomed, bringing her attention back to him. “Your herb is of _no_ importance here, woman. We have no need of it, no _use_ for it! There is no benefit to _us_ in your quest!”

Startled, Hashiki stared at him, feeling a sense of panic in her chest. She wasn’t prepared for this, not at all. Was he going to deny her request, and send her away? After all the hospitality Mai Hikima had shown her?

“But it’s extremely important!” Hashiki blurted out. “The properties of the herb are at the very _heart_ of Wakanda’s safety! It is my sacred duty to restore it and to this end I will . . . .” she floundered a moment, “I will do _whatever_ I must!”

That was _not_ what she intended to say, Hashiki realized, blushing. Particularly when the warriors all stared at her. On the throne, M’Baku narrowed his eyes.

“Bold words, woman. But I could have you tossed off the bridge of the Chilling Mists with a nod of my head!”

Next to her, Mai Hikima snorted, taking away any seriousness in the threat. Under her breath she whispered to Hashiki, “yes, yes, we all know you are big and scary, Yaro. Tell him you’ll help me with my herbs. Go on; he’ll accept that.”

“I will h-help Mai Hikima with her herbs,” Hashiki offered, her voice trembling. Even though his threat was clearly a jest, she couldn’t quite quell the knot of fear in her stomach, especially since he looked entirely capable of carrying it out himself.

M’Baku shifted, his glance flickering from her to Mai Hikima, who stared back just as fiercely. For a long moment nobody spoke, and to her horror, Hashiki felt her eyes well up. Before she could stop it, a tear slipped down her cheek.

Seeing it, the man on the throne winced. “Yes, yes, fine. Help then. Go. Just don’t . . . don’t do _that_. Go, go, go!” He made a shooing motion with one heavy arm, urging them out. Hashiki wiped her cheek with the heel of one hand and turned, feeling utterly disgraced.

Mai Hikima however, was smiling. “Perfect!” she whispered as they left down the long hall. “He can’t deny you a _thing_ now, dear friend!”

“What? I’ve embarrassed myself and the king!” Hashiki muttered back thickly. “M’Baku will never take anything I do seriously and on top of everything else I looked like a blubbering baby!”

However the older woman shook her head and gave Hashiki a knowing sidelong glance. “No, you’ve shown him how serious you are about your quest, and how deeply you hold it in your heart. My grandson may be loud and a little frightening, but he’s a man who understands both honor and dedication. He _will_ support your work now.”

Hashiki stopped and glared at Mai Hikima. “Because I _cried_? That’s ridiculous!”

“Because you cried,” Mai Hikima agreed, unfazed. “We shed tears for what we hold most dear. Come, let us have tea and plan a scavenging route, shall we?”

*** *** *** 

Hashiki tried to put the embarrassing moment behind her and focus on the job at hand, but couldn’t shake the feeling that a good many people knew what had happened. She and Mai Hikima visited every private and community garden around the central village and several times people gave her encouraging words.

“Our leader is a good man, but gruff,” one young mother told her. “Like a gorilla he’s a lot of show for a soft heart.”

“Don’t fret,” an older man with a grizzled beard assured Hashiki, “You work with greenery and that’s respected here. M’Baku understands that.”

“Why is everyone talking about this?” Hashiki demanded of Mai Hikima as they loaded the goat cart with clippings and gifts of food pressed on them by proud gardeners. “I feel so embarrassed!”

“Because they are proud of you,” Mai Hikima assured her. “Going to face our leader isn’t an easy thing to do. We don’t get many visitors, so having one who stood up to Yaro is impressive. Laki, _stop_ ,” this last was to the goat, who was looking over his shoulder at the nearest banana. “You will get the runs, silly beast.”

Hashiki snickered; in the past three days alone the goat had managed to eat a handful of drying coffee beans, part of a reed basket, and no fewer than three tassels off her shawl. She wanted to be mad at him but there was something about his defiance that reminded her of Shuri; a sort of sauciness that even Mai Hikima found amusing.

“I would have traded him away _years_ ago if he wasn’t so useful,” the older woman grumbled. “And he gives me . . . interesting fertilizer.”

“I’m sure,” Hashiki laughed, “given the, ah, variety in his diet!”

They took the cart home and fell into their established routine: Mai Hikima would sort the clippings while Hashiki would classify, preserve and bundle them for transport. In the afternoon a young runner—usually Karfi—would come by and collect whatever parcel was ready to be taken across the Chilling Mist Bridge to the courier on the other side.

So far only one packet had come the other way: a note from the Keepers assuring her that her samples and cuttings were arriving and safe; a note of commendation from T’Challa, and a letter from her sister. That last left Hashiki sighing.

“She’s got a new husband,” Hashiki shared as she and Mai Hikima sipped Bounce in the stone porch. “A supervisor who runs the tunnel train routes through the capital. Didn’t even mention his name.”

“Another one?” the old lady snorted. “Which number is this?”

“Four,” Hashiki rolled her eyes. “She’s hinting for a wedding present.”

Mai Hikima waved a dismissing hand. “Ridiculous! One is natural, two is understandable, and three, if you’ve lived as long as I have, permissible, but _four_? What is she doing, collecting last names like hats?”

Hashiki shrugged. “I think she loves each, at the beginning. Then she gets bored with them and moves on.”

“Ah,” Mai Hikima nodded. She shot Hashiki a compassionate glance. “And you? Have you someone you love?”

“I did once,” Hashiki admitted, feeling a pang. “A long time ago. He was a fellow student. Smart. Ambitious. I thought he loved me.”

The older woman was silent, but she reached over to pat Hashiki’s hand.

“He became my sister’s second husband,” Hashiki sighed.

Mai Hikima’s mouth pursed up and her eyes grew flinty. “It is a _good_ thing,” she began, her voice low and rough, “that the Chilling Mists Bridge is very unsteady, otherwise I would cross it today and give your sister a good _beating_ with my stone walking stick!”

Hashiki spluttered a laugh, and let her fingers tighten around Mai Hikima’s. “That is the sweetest, most impossible thing, dear friend, and I love you for saying it!”

“Arrrh! I could _curse_ her,” Mai Hikima offered, but her mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Make all her hair fall out, even at this distance!”

“Thank you but no,” Hashiki fought down her giggles. “Tempting as the offer is. Eke is what she is and I’ve made my peace with it. Besides, M’Daro would not have been right for me. This I know.”

Mai Hikima squeezed her fingers comfortingly and neither woman spoke for a while. 

Gradually Hashiki became aware of footsteps approaching and looked to see a familiar figure striding up the path. She drew a breath, determined to stay calm as Mai Hikima rose up and leaned on the railing.

“Child, what is wrong with your _eye_?”

Startled, Hashiki jumped up and looked down. The leader of the Jabari was back in the old dashiki and worn trousers which she had come to realize was his gardening and task outfit, but one eye was nearly swollen shut, and his right cheek puffed out alarmingly.

“Bees!” he bawled up at them, squinting. “You! Doctor! What do you know of bees?”

“She knows enough not to stick her face into a hive!” Mai Hikima called down. “Get inside so I can put a poultice on you, Child!” To Hashiki she added, “He _hates_ bees. Come, I have saleratus and beauty mud; let us make sure he’s not actually hurt.”

It was hard not to laugh. M’Baku sat on a low stool, sulking as his grandmother carefully smoothed the pale ochre over his face and Hashiki plucked out the few barbs that remained. This close she realized he smelled nice; a clean scent much like fresh moss.

“It’s under the camphorwood at the edge of the ravine,” he told his grandmother. “And I did not stick my face into it, Babba. Not on _purpose_ anyway.”

“Is it a wild hive?” Hashiki wanted to know. 

He looked at her with his good eye. “You’re not going to _cry_ again, are you?”

“I did not cry!” Hashiki informed him tartly. “One tear! _One_ , no more. That is _not_ crying.”

“It’s enough that everyone from the children to the town baker thinks I am terrible,” he growled. “I will have you know I am NOT a bully!”

“No, you are a big careless fool who knocks his head on hives,” Mai Hikima chided. “Hush. Hashiki knows your intention. Now leave this on and don’t scratch.”

“I can’t do that!” M’Baku protested. “Walk around with half my face packed in mud!”

“So go cook us dinner while we go and see about this hive. I think Desu and M’lawi still have a basket if we can move the queen.”

“I won’t help you!” M’Baku told them, rising and moving into the kitchen. “Even if you _beg_!”

“Fresh honey,” his grandmother reminded him, swatting his backside in a way that made Hashiki smother a snort of amusement. The leader of the Jabari gave a grunt of protest but was already pulling vegetables from a basket to chop. “And wax, both of which would be nice as well. Your misfortune can be turned into good fortune you know.”

He turned to glare at his grandmother, but Hashiki saw the affection in his expression and it warmed her. _Family,_ she thought. _Why couldn’t mine have been this way?_


	4. Chapter 4

It took well over three days to move the hive, mostly because Hashiki had to convince her hostess that a top bar hive would be better than a basket. This was the first time she and Mai Hikima had disagreed, but to her credit, the older woman gave in graciously when Hashiki drew out the design and offered to help build it.

“Baskets were good enough in _my_ day,” Mai Hikima pretended to grumble, but from her bright gaze and interested questions it was clear the argument was just for show.

Hashiki smiled. “I’m sure they were, and if this doesn’t suit you or the hive we can move them again, but we must think of what’s best for the bees. Having a stable home where they can be productive and supervised would be best for all concerned, yes?”

The older woman nodded. “And you say the comb can be reused?”

“Oh yes. When I was a girl I worked with some of the bee-tenders in the Contemplation Garden as part of my studies,” Hashiki murmured as fond memories came back to her. “They taught me a great deal. Who keeps hives here?”

“The Hyena does,” Mai Hikima shrugged. “He brings bottles of honey down to the market every few weeks, and I think one of the Magoya families out near the border does too, although I cannot be sure.”

Hashiki thought she’d misheard. “The Hyena?”

“The old man who lives high up on Sanyi Peak. He’s a Seer,” Mai Hikima replied, her tone sad. “That one is _so_ connected to the spirit world that he cannot live among us down here; all the noise pains him. Every now and again, though, he ventures down bringing jars of honey and Dreaming Air to barter. Most of us give him the better part of the deal, poor man.”

“Dreaming Air?” Hashiki brightened. “I thought that was just a legend! He really does bottle it?” 

“He does,” Mai Hikima told her, “but it comes at a much dearer price than the honey. Market day is the day after tomorrow, and we may see him.”

“Ohhhh . . . I was planning to leave by then,” Hashiki murmured, feeling a pang of sorrow. 

Mai Hikima shot her a startled look. “So soon? But we haven’t even gone to the girgije daji--the cloud forest--and there are whole _sections_ of the Kankara River filled with vines! No, you cannot go so soon; tell me you’ll stay a few days longer, _please_ , Hashiki!”

“I . . . whole sections, you say?” she caught Mai Hikima’s sorrowful expression, watched it shift into something hopeful.

“Oh yes, many acres,” came the eager reply. “I can’t go very far with you myself but there are _plenty_ of guides around. Karfi would; that boy seems to like you.”

Hashiki snickered. “He likes my _cooking_ , you mean.” She’d made it a point to pay him for his courier duties with home-made treats, which delighted him.

“That too,” Mai Hikima agreed with a toothy grin. “At least stay until the next full moon. There are some night blooms well worth seeing and by then the bees should be settled, eh?”

It was impossible to resist the pleading in the old woman’s voice, and Hashiki slowly nodded as she looked down at the drawing of the hive box. “Well I suppose I could extend my stay a little longer. Matters seem to be going well at the capital, and as long as I’m not imposing on your hospitality . . . .”

Mai Hikima rose up and came to hug her. “Not at all. I’ve learned so much and it’s been a _joy_ to have you!”

Hashiki echoed the sentiment. The dinner of a few nights back had been a wonderful surprise; M’Baku was a talented cook who had waved away her compliments with gruff embarrassment, but she knew he was touched by her praise of his _ugali_ and _bambra._

Despite his protests about helping them move the bees, M’Baku had also sent workmen to build the hive and had made sure she and Mai Hikima had the supplies they needed. His brusque attitude never bothered his grandmother, who teased him constantly, and Hashiki recognized the deep affection between them with a little bit of envy.

Family. Her own was not nearly as close, she knew. Eke had always been considered the beauty while she—dumpy and short and always reading—had been shuttled off to school most of the time. Her father and mother were happy managing their little dairy near the borders and loving as her grandmother was, she spent all her time running the retirement village these days. They loved her of course, but nobody had time to spend much time together these days.

She hugged Mai Hikima back—gently—and chuckled. “Out of all the places I have gone looking for vines, this has been the most fun,” Hashiki admitted.

“Good, I’m glad,” Mai Hikima told her. “Now let us go to the library and see if we can find an updated map. It’s been several years since I camped along the Kankara, but I’ll show you the most likely spots for vines. You’ll need boots too---we’ll stop at Gadise’s shop for a pair, since she owes me a favor.”

When Hashiki tried to protest, Mai Hikima shook her head. “It’s no use; you’ve tried to be sneaky about doing housework but I know _Yaro_ didn’t fold the laundry or scrub the bathtub. Be a good girl and let me thank you this way, eh?”

And there was nothing to do but give in gracefully, Hashiki realized with a smile.

*** *** *** 

The Hyena was a walking nightmare.

Hashiki fought the fear in her stomach and waited politely as Mai Hikima approached him as he sat on a stool between two stalls, a thick furry spotted hide across his twisted shoulders, his hair in grey ropes that hung down from his head like snakes. When the older woman approached he turned his face to her, his one good eye focusing on her. The other—milky white—stared sightlessly into the distance.

“Greetings oh guard of the future’s gateway,” Mai Hikima called to him.

“Greetings to you, little grandmother,” came his raspy reply. “What is your desire? Certainly not honey for I smell it on you already, and not from _my_ bees high on the mountain.”

“True,” Mai Hikima replied, and Hashiki heard the gentle reverence in her voice. “I now have a hive of my own and I seek your blessing to share it with my tribe.”

He smiled, and to Hashiki’s surprise his teeth were all there, dazzling white in his grin.

“I give it then, and may your hive be generous, little grandmother. But I sense you seek _more_.” 

“Not I, but my companion,” Mai Hikima replied, nodding to Hashiki. “She seeks--”

“--Dreaming Air,” the Hyena intoned, his scarred face twisting into a serious expression. “And I have dreamed of _this_. A bottle for the blossom seeker; the woman who walks among the vines; the queen without a kingdom.”

Hashiki blinked at Mai Hikima, who shrugged before turning back to the Hyena. “Yes?” the old woman replied cautiously.

The Hyena laughed, a loud chattering sound that carried in the marketplace, making other people look around uneasily.

“Yes,” he agreed. He fished out a bottle of grey rippled glass, tossing it from one hand to the other. “Have you the courage for this? Many believe they do; most come to regret what this holds for them.”

Something defiant inside her stirred at his caution, and Hashiki stepped forward before she could stop herself, plucking the bottle out of his juggling act to his delight. The Hyena bowed his head, his long snaky locks bouncing when he did so.

“A true queen,” he rumbled. “May it guide you to the greater good.”

Hashiki fished out a handful of coins from the little bag at her side, but the Hyena refused them, his dazzling teeth flashing out again as he held up his gnarled hands. “No price: a gift,” he assured her.

Mai Hikima took her arm and led her away, her eyes wide. “Oh by Hanuman’s backside that was . . . unexpected!”

“A show,” Hashiki told her, not certain herself. “It’s all for show. This is just some sort of gas with euphoric effects.”

Mai Hikima shot her a dry look. “Spoken like a scientist, of course. Well, we shall see what happens when night falls, won’t we?”

*** *** ***

_She walked along a road she vaguely knew, and around her grew banana trees, but when she looked at them the fronds became into vines. Hashiki reached up to touch one and it turned into a long grey dreadlock. When she looked around again she was at the mouth of a cave . . ._

_No, not a cave. It was a heart-shaped herb blossom. An impossibly HUGE one, almost erotic, glowing softly in pale lavender that sloped down into violet darkness, beckoning her inside. Hashiki stood on the lower petal, peering into it, half-afraid, half-excited. She gripped one edge hoping to steady herself when she slipped, tumbling, tumbling . . ._

_And he caught her. She couldn’t see his face but Hashiki knew those arms, those shoulders._

_That clean moss scent._

_YOU.ARE.SAFE._

_Had he said it? She FELT it, knew it was true. Here deep within the herb Hashiki knew she was safe, and leaned against his big warm body for a moment . . ._

_And then fell further, seeing the jagged cliffs and mist of the Chasm rising up around as she dropped. Panic flared through her and Hashiki held her arms out hoping to stop her fall, trying to scream. Her hand brushed something and she grabbed it tightly._

_A vine._

_And holding the other end, a pair of large, strong hands._

She woke, shuddering hard, her pulse racing. Hashiki forced herself to relax as she tried to calm down. “Just a dream. Just a dream. You asked for one and you _got_ one, idiot! Juuuuuuust a dream.” 

Nevertheless, Hashiki rose, wrapped herself in a robe and nursed a cup of tea until dawn.


	5. Chapter 5

Nothing was going as planned, and Hashiki scowled at the goat. “Really?” she demanded of Laki, who continued chewing the vine that dangled from the corner of his mouth. She considered yanking it out but knew the sample was already ruined. Clearly Laki was enjoying it as well; he shook his head, making his lop ears waggle in the sunshine.

Behind her came a bark of a laugh; Hashiki spun to glare. “You are not helping matters!”

“No,” M’Baku agreed, not at all contrite. “But _that_ one is nothing but an appetite barely contained in a goat hide. I cannot believe you’ve lived with my Babba for over a week and haven’t figured that out.”

He caught Laki’s muzzle and lifted it, trying to stare down the beast. “You are SO lucky I’m a vegetarian.”

Laki pulled his head away from M’Baku’s hand and gave a little defiant ‘baaaaah’ before spitting out the vine. The wet chewed mess landed on the man’s right sandal, coating the top of his toes in cud.

Now it was Hashiki’s turn to laugh and she did, her giggles rising in the air as disgusted, M’Baku used the butt of his spear to flick the offending matter off. 

“Yes, he’s very intimidated by you,” she observed. “Well done.”

“Bah!” M’Baku growled, lifting his foot and shaking it. “This is all _your_ fault. You and this foolish expedition. If it wasn’t for the fact that my Babba would give me ten years of grief for it, I’d leave you here right now!”

Hashiki looked around at the picturesque beauty of the riverbank, where the land sloped down to the slow moving water. Butterflies darted about, and the soft susurration of a breeze through the forest around them provided a peaceful hum. She gave a shrug.

“So do it. _Go._ I can take cuttings without you just fine. You were the one who insisted on coming in the first place.”

He glared at her. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”

“If it’s such a bother, why did you insist on coming yourself? Karfi was more than willing to do this,” Hashiki pointed out, trying not to let herself get exasperated. It was difficult though; M’Baku always left her feeling prickly and self-conscious. _He was just so . . . BIG,_ she thought to herself. _Big in size, big in opinion, big in ego._

M’Baku scowled. “He’s a boy.”

“And?” Hashiki prodded, tucking the alligator hide case to the back of Laki’s cart, out of reach along with the adze she’d borrowed from Mai Hikima.

“He should be focused on his training, not trailing after you like a lovesick bushbaby,” M’Baku rumbled, scratching his jaw.

Hashiki looked up, startled and amused. She dropped her hands to her hips and cocked her head. “A lovesick bushbaby . . . where do you _get_ these ideas? He’s not in love with me, he’s in love with my _puff-puffs_ and _inerja_!”

M’Baku rolled his eyes. “Does the king back on his fancy throne in the capital realize he’s sent a _blind_ woman out on this mission? Because Karfi’s devotion has nothing to do with food and _everything_ to do with . . . .” he trailed off, not willing to finish his statement, but by now Hashiki was glaring.

“With. _What_?” she demanded, stepping up to him, tipping her head to meet his gaze. 

M’Baku caught her gaze, held it, and for a long moment Hashiki couldn’t see anything else. They stared at each other; she felt her skin grow hot and then cold as a wave of something she couldn’t identify rolled through her entire body. 

_The dream_ , she thought faintly. _It’s like the dream._

“ _Da zaki_ ,” he finally sighed, shifting his weight and breaking the gaze they shared. “The sweetness. Listen, the boy is young and full of himself, so naturally when a beautiful woman pays the _slightest_ bit of attention to him he thinks he’s in love, eh? Struts around, all wide-eyed and stupid, not doing his duty. It’s _ridiculous_!”

“I’m _not_ beautiful,” Hashiki replied automatically. “ _That’s_ ridiculous!”

“No, we are _not_ having this argument,” M’Baku growled. “You are beautiful and that boy, like _all_ idiot boys his age is besotted. THAT is why I was not going to risk sending him alone with you in the seclusion of the countryside. Who knows what sort of foolishness that would create?”

“We’re here for _vines_!” Hashiki pointed out, her temper rising.

“Oh it _starts_ with vines but for all we know it would end up with . . . _poetry_!” M’Baku roared, his nostrils flaring slightly. “And I will not _have_ it, _no_!”

The giggles spluttered out of her. “ _Poetry_? Where do you _get_ this nonsense? _Nobody_ writes me poetry! Nobody writes me _anything_ except forms or requests or reports! Or maybe you think the magnificent pages of ‘Inoscultation Techniques for Scandent Specimens of the Cucurbitaceae Family’ is going to _sweep_ me off my feet!”

They were glaring hard at each other now, both of them on the edge of growling and that was the moment that Laki chose to bolt, dragging the cart across the bank of the river, the adze tumbling out of it.

“Wait, stop!” Hashiki called, watching the carefully packed contents of the cart begin to bounce as the wheels hit river stones. She started to run but M’Baku was quicker, surging ahead despite his bulky size.

Laki ran faster though, waggling his stubby tail in what Hashiki thought was a clear insult. This was too much for M’Baku, who sped up. She herself slowed, letting M’Baku snag the goat’s halter, growling at him the entire time as she finally walked up to them, adze in hand.

“You thick-headed, stupid kid of a miserable nanny! I hope the next thing you eat gives you a massive gut-ache!”

Laki bleated something Hashiki knew was some sort of retaliatory slur in goat language and managed to step on M’Baku’s foot—the same one he’d spit on earlier, she realized from the man’s pained expression.

“Oh I HATE you, you stupid GOAAAAT!” M’Baku boomed out, hopping a little.

And it was too much. Hashiki doubled over, laughing. The sound of it echoed through the little river valley only to be joined a few moments later with a deeper hooting chuckle. She braced her hands on her thighs and shot a sidelong look at M’Baku, who was shaking with his own humor, his expression both resigned and relaxed. 

She tried to stop, but every time Hashiki caught his eye, the giggles started up again, and she had to turn away. Her stomach started to ache, but it was a good feeling; she hadn’t laughed like this in years.

Finally though, Hashiki managed to wipe her eyes and straighten up, shaking out her braids. Her mouth hurt from smiling so much but she looked at M’Baku. “Are, are you all right?”

“I am,” he told her. “It’s nothing he hasn’t done to me before. Why my Babba keeps him is beyond me. I suppose it’s because they’re so alike.”

“Ooooooooh I am going to _tell_ her you said that!” Hashiki threatened, grinning as she put the adze back in the cart.

M’Baku looked alarmed. “Don’t!” he boomed. “I’ll _never_ hear the end of it!”

“Ah, then you’re going to have to _bribe_ me,” Hashiki told him, busying herself with re-securing the contents of the cart. She felt a little giddy now, and savored it.

“Oh so THAT is your game!” he replied, but his tone was light as well. “Treachery! What is your price for silence, woman?”

“Lunch,” Hashiki told him, fishing a cloth bag out of the back of the cart. “Let us eat and discuss my terms.”

They picnicked higher up the bank in a little sheltered spot under some Locust Bean trees. M’Baku tethered Laki and laid out a kanga for them to sit on while Hashiki untied the bundle and served up the fufu and a jar of tomato stew that she divided into two gourd bowls. She loved the spicy flavor and it tasted just right after all the work of the morning. Across from her M’Baku sat cross-legged, dipping fufu into his soup.

“The peppers in this are from my garden,” he told her. “I have three rows of them, mostly _piri piri_.”

“They’re perfect. Are they the only thing you raise?” Hashiki wanted to know. 

“Oh no, I have all sorts of squash and bean trellises and my own herb box,” he told her with pride. “I’ve been growing my own food for the last ten years . . . with my Babba’s help.”

They talked more, and twenty minutes later, right in the middle of a discussion about whether pumpkins were better stewed or fried, Hashiki saw the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye.

Just beyond M’Baku’s massive right thigh, in the tangle of groundcover.

She froze, the harsh whisper hissing out of her. “Don’t move!”

To his credit, M’Baku froze. “Why?” he whispered back.

“Just . . . trust me. Stay very still . . .” Hashiki slowly fished through the bars of the cart, quietly tugging out the adze. She got to her feet. “ _Please_ don’t move,” she begged, shifting around him to get into better position.

“Ha-shi-ki . . . !”

She thrust the adze into the greenery and with a flick and swing, the viper flew into the air, soaring in an arc to land yards away near the river’s edge. M’Baku jumped to his feet, eyes wide. He turned from watching the snake lie stunned among the rocks back to Hashiki, who had dropped the adze and was breathing hard.

“Snake,” she murmured weakly, utterly unprepared when M’Baku pulled her into his arms.

“You are safe,” he rumbled, and when she looked up at him in shock, she saw by the surprise on his face that he recognized the words as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Hashiki stammered, trying to speak and cope with the overwhelming rush of sensations running through her. “V-viper,” she stuttered, still leaning against him. “IsawitandIknewifIcouldgettheedgeunderitIcouldflipitawayIdiditbeforebackatmyparent’sfarmtheyearwhenwehadanestofthemandmymothershowedmehow—”

M’Baku bent forward, moving so close she felt his warm breath against her face. “Shhhhhhhh,” he rumbled. “Slowwwww down.”

She gulped for breath, still aware of his big warm arms around her, caught in M’Baku’s gaze. “You could have _died_ ,” she stated, astounded how shaky she still was.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But not _today_. Not by _viper_. You know what this means.”

“Yes.” Actually she had no idea what this meant but Hashiki didn’t care. Simply standing here in the shade of the trees, feeling herself pulled against his warmth had her giddy.

“Good then,” M’Baku sighed. “Snakes. They are as bad as bees.”

“What?” Hashiki pulled away, staring up at him. “How can you _say_ that? There is no comparison! Bees only sting you; a viper will _kill_ you!”

“Not _that_ one,” he pointed with his bearded chin towards where the still-stunned snake was sluggishly beginning to slither off. “I’m fairly sure you scrambled what few brains he has.”

Hashiki made a fist and lightly thumped it on his chest. “I don’t think he’s the _only_ one with scrambled brains! M’Baku, the venom potency of a Umbulali viper—“ 

He cut her off with a kiss, and stunned, Hashiki’s train of thought short-circuited in the instant rush of pleasure. The man’s lips were unbelievably soft and she kissed back, unable to stop herself from tightening her arms around him as far as she could reach, which was a stretch.

Hashiki didn’t really know how to kiss; she’d never done much of it, not even with M’Daro but somehow in this moment the gentle demand of M’Baku’s mouth on hers emboldened her and she moaned, overwhelmed by the rush of desire flooding through her. When he pulled back a moment later she gave a little whimper of protest and stared at him, dazed.

“I think,” he muttered huskily, “I have just found the _best_ way to win an argument with you.”

“No, _I_ win,” Hashiki countered automatically. “You kissed me, but I _saved_ you.”

“So you did,” M’Baku agreed, dropping another kiss on her mouth. This time she dared to flick her tongue against the seam of his lips, thrilled when they parted for her, and oh the heat flared then, making her shudder with delight, her moans muffled with his.

Such kisses! She’d never known how hot and sweet they could be, or how her entire body could hunger this way, but gradually a flare of common sense flashed through Hashiki’s brain and she pulled back, aghast. “Ohhhhh demethi! By Bast’s claws _what_ am I doing?!”

“Comforting me,” M’Baku told her with a straight face although his eyes were glazed and his voice rough.

Hashiki wriggled and he let go of her immediately but didn’t step back, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Comforting you? You are a _warrior_! The leader of the Jabari!” Hashiki pointed out with a tinge of hysteria in her voice. “You do not _need_ comforting!”

“Maybe I was comforting _you_ ,” he offered and this time he flashed a hopeful grin at her, teeth bright. “These things can be confusing.”

“No,” she told him patting her hands on her face to cool it. “ _Nobody_ needs comforting! We are two grown people and the danger is past!”

“For now,” M’Baku pointed out. “Although I feel it’s only fair to point out that there are dozens of potential threats all around us and in light of what you have done for me either one of us may need comforting in the future, you know. The Mountains of the White Gorilla are fraught with danger.”

She shot him a narrow-eye glare. “Now you are making fun of me.”

“Never. Well maybe a little,” M’Baku admitted, grinning again.

Hashiki drew a steadying breath, torn between grinning back and salvaging what dignity she had left. “Look, I am sorry--”

“—For saving me, or kissing me?” he wanted to know, his expression curiously serious now.

“Not for saving you,” Hashiki blurted, “Not that.”

“All right then. You do not regret saving me from the viper and all that entails,” M’Baku stated looking a little more relaxed. “So it’s the kissing you regret.”

“I . . . .” she stammered, feeling her face go hot again. “Well no, I don’t regret that either, but we cannot do it again! It’s not _right_!”

“So let me get this straight—you’re sorry, but not for saving me OR kissing me, and now I’m confused. What exactly are you apologizing for?”

She drew herself up, trying to be patient. “Are you always this . . . argumentative? I am trying to bring back a little dignity here!”

“I am always dignified,” M’Baku announced. “But things have changed between us, Hashiki M’Wanga, whether you want to face it or not. You cannot deny the facts.” He gave a little incline of his head, and when he raised it again, he winked at her.

*** *** *** 

It was a slow walk back and Hashiki kept the goat cart between them, trying to look cool and unruffled, but it was a losing battle. M’Baku told her stories—mostly about his grandmother and her exploits as a medicine woman and midwife—while she made non-committal sounds. Every time she snuck a glance his way, he would look back at her just as shyly, his expression unexpectedly . . . tender.

And that confused her even more. She expected him to tease her; expected him to ignore her but this gentleness was twisting her emotions in strange ways. _How could this be the same man who scared me in the throne room_? Hashiki wondered to herself as they reached the outskirts of the main village. As they passed by a man pulling weeds outside his home, M’Baku called to him. “Yonari, this woman saved me from a _viper_!”

The man goggled a moment and bowed his head. “ _Ya albarkace ta_!” he intoned.

Hashiki spoke up. “It was nothing! I just flicked it away!”

M’Baku called to someone further up the path. “Daroki! I was saved from a viper by _this_ woman!”

“Ohhh! _Ya albarkace ta_!” came the reply, and the man bowed before turning to run ahead into the village.

Hashiki felt a nagging suspicion tugging at her thoughts. She looked at M’Baku. “Why are they blessing me?”

“Because you have done a great deed for the Jabari,” he murmured lightly, but he wouldn’t look at her, which only heightened her misgivings. She stopped, but the cart and M’Baku kept moving forward.

“M’Bakuuuuu,” She called warningly. “What is going on?”

He half-turned and made a beckoning gesture; Hashiki had no choice but to follow. More people kept murmuring Ya albarkace ta as she passed, and when they reached the center of the marketpace, M’Baku stepped up on the same stone Mai Hikima had, she realized.

“My people!” he boomed, raising his arms. The curious crowd fell silent. M’Baku waved Hashiki over and before she realized it, he turned her to face the people, grasped her hips and _lifted_ her into the air.

Too shocked to protest, Hashiki stiffened, trying not to wiggle, her hands sliding down over his massive ones.

“This woman!” M’Baku continued. “Saved me from the deathstrike of an Umbulali viper!”

The roar went up, “ _Ya albarkace ta_!”

“She has earned the right to be JABARI!” M’Baku roared, lifting her higher. Hashiki’s mouth dropped open but nothing came out. She looked over the crowd of smiling faces and welling up deep within her was a surge of mingled emotions. Joy. Surprise. Gratitude.

Hashiki blinked, fighting back tears as the people cheered again. “ _Ya albarkace ta_!”

M’Baku set her down again and people surged forward to hug her, and pat her arms, murmuring and laughing as they did so. She patted and nodded and smiled back, overwhelmed by it all, but aware too of being braced against the onslaught by the big man behind her.

“How brave!” some told her, and others, “Welcome always, Sister!”

“Out of my way, out of my way!” came a familiar voice and the crowd parted respectfully for Mai Hikima, who tottered up, her stone walking stick tapping on the ground. She looked at Hashiki and M’Baku standing on the raised stone and cocked her head. “What is this?”

“Doc-tor Hashiki M’Wanga used your adze to save me from the strike of an Umbulali viper when we were on the banks of the Kankara River, Revered Mother of my Father,” M’Baku called. “She has _earned_ her place among the Jabari.”

After a long moment, Mai Hikima nodded. “That she has. Now get down from there and let these people get back to their lives. Hashiki, there is a message for you from the capital.”


	7. Chapter 7

_From the Botanical Laboratories of the Institute for Achievement, Research Department, Doctor Lelethu Ullala, director._

_Doctor M’Wanga,_

_Thank you for your field work on behalf of the isityalo senhliziyo recovery project. Among the last shipment of your collected specimens we have had notable success with #36 from the Tangala Forest at the Mount Kanda Settlement. Given this development, I have dispatched a team to collect additional specimens and I expect you to meet them there to help direct this process._

_Wakanda forever,_

_Lelethu Ullala, dr._

Hashiki read the note and growled to herself, feeling a surge of annoyance at this demotion. She shook her head. “I don’t _need_ to be there,” she told the paper. “Lelethu, this is ridiculous—Delewi can handle collecting the vines without supervision; she’s the _head_ of the Institute’s nursery for Bast’s sake!”

She looked up to see Mai Hikima handing her a cup of tea. “Bad news?”

“Annoying news,” Hashiki replied, accepting the drink gratefully. She sipped it before speaking again. “My immediate supervisor wants me to go babysit a team of well-trained and completely competent botanists while they collect samples from my last gathering point. While I appreciate being told something I found is working, I don’t appreciate being pulled away from collecting other specimens here.”

“Ah,” Mai Hikima commiserated. “Success is like that sometimes. So how long will you be gone?”

Hashiki gazed at the other woman. “How long? This will be _farewell_ , Mai Hikima. Once I have finished with the collection team I will be recalled to the capital. The Keepers will take over the project and I will most likely spend my days cataloging and registering all the other specimens I have collected.”

The older woman drew a deep breath. “Demethi, I feared it would be something like that. _Must_ you go?” she pleaded.

Hashiki blinked, trying not to let her eyes water up. “She is my supervisor and like it or not, I have a duty to the Institute and the king.”

Mai Hikima sighed. “Duty. Such a two-edged sword, eh? It is one of the few aspects of life that make us better people and yet costs us much as well. I understand, but it does not make me happy to have you leave us, Hashiki.”

“I . . . don’t _want_ to go--not so soon,” Hashiki told her, sniffing a little. “Everyone here has been so supportive and kind to me, especially you.”

Mai Hikima pushed herself from the table and came to Hashiki, hugging her tightly. “You have been like a daughter,” came the rough whisper. “Dear child.”

They clung to each other for a while, neither of them admitting to the tears but they were there and both of them had damp faces when they finally let go. Mai Hikima sniffed loudly and took a breath. “A feast. We’ll have a feast to send you off, then. I’ll make Yaro cook his pumpkin gumbo and flatbread.”

“No, I don’t want anyone to go to any trouble!” Hashiki protested, well-aware it would do no good since it was clear that Mai Hikima had her mind set. “You don’t have to!”

“No I don’t, but I _want_ to,” the older woman told her with a little smile. “A celebration of your blessing into our tribes and time enough to share a little joy before you go.”

She patted Hashiki’s hand and tottered away, looking smaller and frailer as she did so. Hashiki wiped her eyes as she watched her friend head out.

_I don’t to leave her,_ she admitted to herself and another thought hit her like a blow to the stomach. _Or him. I’ll have to tell him myself._

She tucked the letter into her pocket and braced herself, heading out of the house and down the path towards the main village, feeling a little sick to her stomach at the uncertainty of her reception. Would he be angry? Cold? Aloof? _Not that last,_ Hashiki prayed to herself. _Anything but that. I could not bear to be cut like that._

As she walked she took a moment to enjoy the peace along the long track, and savor the beauty of the hills around her. Yes Hashiki had missed some of the labor-saving devices and technology, but not as much as she’d thought she would. It had taken some time not to reach for a cell phone or expect the lights to go on automatically when she walked into rooms, but her training was true, even with manual tools and methods; science was still science. The slower pace of life here had been kinder to her soul, she realized.

At the doorway to the throne room, Hashiki announced herself to the burly guard, who listened to her request and then spoke. “He is mediating the Magoya and the Gansakuka clans, but it will end shortly if you care to wait, Doctor.”

She agreed, her throat dry. Desperate for a distraction, Hashiki stood patiently at the far end of the wood draped room, and began to study one of the long branches, reaching out a hand to touch the nearest one. _African Fern pine,_ Hashiki thought to herself. _A variety I haven’t seen before, although the furrowing along the bark is wider than usual and extremely desiccated._

Hashiki was so caught up in her examination that she was unaware of people passing behind her and leaving, not losing concentration until the rumble of a throat clearing over her head made her start. She turned to find M’Baku watching her with a glint of amusement. “Those are sacred relics, you know. The penalty for touching them is _death_.”

For a moment she froze, but then lifted her chin. “I apologize, but they’re in poor condition. They need oil and polishing if they are to last.”

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “You want to oil and polish my wood? Doctor! That is extremely suggestive of you. I approve.”

“What? No, that’s _not_ . . . oh you!” she swatted at his shoulder, amused and exasperated at the same time. “I don’t understand how _anyone_ takes you seriously!”

“And yet you stand here, caressing artifacts and making lewd suggestions,” M’Baku pointed out, eyes twinkling. “The truth? _You_ started it.”

Hashiki rolled her eyes. “It was an objective observation. Pine is susceptible to brittle breakage, especially in the chillier months; a deep saturation of oil followed by a varnish would preserve the relics, M’Baku.”

“Ah,” he nodded, looking serious for a moment. “Do you have recommendations?” As he spoke, a little shudder rolled through the throne room, making the branches rattle a little. M’Baku put a bracing arm against her and looked up. “Tremor,” he added. “Small, though.”

Hashiki nodded. “It is the season. And yes, there _are_ some formulas I can suggest that would go a long way to combat what damage has already been done. I’ll leave them with your grandmother.” That last slipped out and she bit her lip.

M’Baku ever so gently caught her chin and forced her to look up at him. “The note. They are recalling you.”

“Sort of,” Hashiki muttered. “Sending me where I am _not_ needed to do a job that others can do just as well _without_ me.”

“A waste of your skill,” he commiserated. “What . . . would happen if you chose not to go?”

She smiled humorlessly. “Ah. Unless I had a strong and compelling reason, the director would have me reprimanded, demoted and possibly even dismissed. I would lose my job and pension which would mean I’d have to return to my parent’s dairy or go live with my sister.” Hashiki shuddered at this last thought.

“Better death than your sister,” M’Baku rumbled, and she giggled softly.

“True. So I must go, however much I do not _want_ to.”

For a long moment they simply gazed at each other, and Hashiki felt her heart thump painfully in her chest. M’Baku thrust his jaw out.

“If you must go, so be it, although it will painful for . . . Babba.”

Hashiki nodded. She hoped he would say he would miss her, or that it would pain him too, but M’Baku didn’t. When he spoke, his words were unexpected.

“I had a dream,” he murmured, hesitantly reaching to toy with one of her braids where it draped down along the front of her shoulder. “I was to keep you safe, but instead you kept _me_ safe. I do not know what it means, Hashiki, my _jarumi daya_ , but it troubles me. Let me stay near until you leave us.”

She nodded, and impulsively slipped her arms around him. They stood that way for a long time.

*** *** ***

Morning came too soon, overcast and still. Hashiki methodically packed her bundle, trying not to cry as she made room for the gifts among her possessions. There was the new gomesi with the green leaf print given to her by Mai Hikima; a set of stone knives from the main village, and a bracelet of polished wooden beads that she wore wrapped around one wrist. Hashiki ran her fingers over one of the smooth beads of M’Baku’s gift.

“To protect you, and remind you that you are one of _us_ now,” he’d rumbled in her ear when Mai Hikima wasn’t looking. The dinner had been wonderful but she’d barely tasted it and now it was time to go.

The ride down the hill was too short, and even Laki seemed subdued, barely nibbling at anything along the way. When the cart reached the edge of the chasm, Hashiki sighed. She looked across the long length of the rope bridge to the far side, which was empty, and back again to where she stood. Mai Hikima was there, as were the guards, and of course, M’Baku.

_This is so hard_ , she thought bleakly. 

“Th-thank you for . . .” Hashiki choked up and continued a second later, “For _everything_. If it is at _all_ within my power I will be back as soon as I can.”

The guards lifted their spears in salute, stepping back as she gave Mai Hikima a last hug, and chucked Laki under his bearded chin. Hashiki turned to look up again at M’Baku, who held her gaze.

“Hash—”

He didn’t get to finish; the ground rumbled and jerked sideways, rocking in waves. Hashiki fell, rolling as the quake shuddered through the land, and she heard the ropes of the bridge snap as the ground gave way under her.


	8. Chapter 8

She didn’t scream; the fall was pushing it back into her mouth as Hashiki scrabbled, clinging to anything as the chasm rushed up in her vision.   
_thedreamthedreamIamgoingtoDIE—_ flashed through her mind but a violent jerk nearly made her bite her tongue as her hand snagged a thick cluster of roots. She swung the other hand to grab it as well while the world around her rocked back and forth. 

Noises rushed back in: Laki bleating in terror; the cries of the guards, the crumbling of rock and dirt everywhere and as she looked up, Hashiki realized she was entangled in a thin cascade of vines dangling along the edge of the chasm. The dirt pouring onto her face made it hard to breathe as she coughed, trying not to move, finding a toehold to brace herself.

It stopped. Hashiki swayed little, weaving her fingers more deeply into the root cluster still embedded into the wall of the cliff. Something brushed her face and she realized it was one of the bridge ropes, but it swung out of reach before she could grab it. Not that she was going to let go of the vines at this point.

“Hashiki!” came a roar. Blinking she looked up to see a pair of big, familiar hands appear over the edge of the dirt six feet above her, followed by M’Baku’s face. Blood from his nose dripped onto her. “Hashiki!” 

She tried to speak but coughed instead, feeling her fingers aching now, cramping as she clung on to the face of the cliff. M’Baku reached down, his hands still too far to reach her, but close enough to touch the top of the root cluster. Terror make her croak out, “Don’t! You’ll fall!”

“Shhhh,” he told her, and worked his fingers into the thick pale strands, calling over his shoulders. “Take my ankles! Hang on until I tell you to drag me!”

“No, it’s too dangerous!” Hashiki called up, her heartbeat still thumping hard.

He gave a chuff of a laugh. “Don’t you believe in the power of Dreaming Air? You . . .” M’Baku pulled hand over hand, ripping the roots as his thick muscles flexed under a layer of grime. Hashiki felt herself scrape up along the cliff, rising. “Arrrre . . . .” He pulled again and a few strands snapped, making her whimper. “Sssssssaaafe!” Her head nearly bumped his, and she moved one hand to clutch the cliff edge. M’Baku called, “Pull!” and shot his massive right hand to clutch her wrist. Hashiki yelped as she scraped her way up and back onto the cliff, the sting of dirt and small rocks scoring gashes up the length of her arm but she didn’t care. She lay stretched out on the littered ground, panting and gasping as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

Safe. Safe on the ground and not hanging over the chasm. She weakly sat up; Mai Hikima slipped an arm around her, croaking, “Oh great and grizzled Hanuman!” 

The older woman had gashes along one side of her face and a lip that was already puffing up, but she didn’t look bothered by them as she caught Hashiki’s face in her hands, her voice trembling. “Oh child you are alive! Thank the great ape! Alive!” 

Hashiki nodded, wiping her own hand along Mai Hikima’s face. “Yes,” she agreed, and gave a little sob, hugging her friend, clinging to her.

The two guards panted, trying to recover from dragging M’Baku back from the edge of the cliff. One of them leaned over the tipped goat cart, his sides heaving. M’Baku got to his feet, the front of his dashiki and shorts utterly encrusted with dirt, the trail of bright blood from his nose dripping off his chin. He tossed the vines aside.

He grinned at Hashiki. “You. Are. Safe!” He repeated triumphantly before his expression shifted to one of intense concern. M’Baku looked to the guards. “Ebeki, D’Soa, run to the village and see who needs help! Dispatch the rest of the warriors to set up aid stations and dig people out. Babba, are you all right?”

“Bumped, but alive--for now.” Mai Hikima admitted. “Laki?”

The goat was nowhere to be seen. The hitch bar had snapped, and the reins, already frayed, had torn. As the guards took off up the rubble-strewn path, M’Baku stumbled over and dropped on his knees, pulling both women to him.

“ _Kuna lafiya,_ ” he rumbled, kissing Mai Hikima’s head, and pressing another one to Hashiki’s temple, his lips lingering. “ _Koyaushe._ ”

Hashiki slumped against him, dazed; she could have stayed there forever. Another small tremor hit, and she clung to him, chest heaving as fresh terror swept over her. M’Baku tightened his arm around her soothingly, his voice low. “I’m here, it’s safe, it’s safe.”

“We can’t stay here, near the chasm,” Mai Hikima pointed out pragmatically. “The bridge is gone and who knows how much more of this edge will go?”

“True. We need to get back and help who we can,” M’Baku agreed. He looked at Hashiki. “You and Babba get in the cart. _I’ll_ be the goat.”

For some reason that struck Hashiki as extremely funny. She realized it was just a stress-induced reaction but still, she giggled loudly, fighting back the urge to let it shift into sobs. Mai Hikima laughed as well, her creaky croaky chuckles squeaking out.

“So I am trading _up_ in the world! You and Laki have the same appetite but I think I will get more speed with _you_ , Child!”

“We’ll find him,” M’Baku muttered, rolling his eyes. “And we can add ‘coward’ to his list of names. Come, Babba.” Gently he helped his grandmother into the cart, tossing in Hashiki’s bundle of goods back in as well before turning to her.

Hashiki hesitated, and then slipped her arms around him, squeezing tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You are my hero, my _hero_!”

M’Baku purred. “I trusted you and you trusted me, woman. No stronger bond.” He gently peeled her off, giving her a crooked smile. “I would like much _more_ of this, but there are people waiting and hurting right now. Come, let us go.”

*** *** ***

When they reached the marketplace many of the stalls had collapsed. The birds in the wicker column were screaming and a cloud of dust made it hard to breathe. Hashiki immediately joined a group of people tending to the wounded, helping to clean and calm some of those with injuries. She kept an eye on Mai Hikima, who hobbled over to another group who were organizing rescue matters.

Broken bones, scrapes, gashes, dislocations . . . She brought water from the one undamaged well and disinfected it; she washed and soothed and bandaged people in a seemingly endless stream as the two doctors in the group dealt with the more serious injuries. 

A few hours later, someone brought her a few chunks of cooked pumpkin and a banana, but Hashiki passed them to the little girl Cisi, who was getting her broken wrist wrapped. The child was crying and flinching, so Hashiki sat next to her and put an arm around her thin shoulders.

“Do you know the pumpkin song?” she asked Cisi, hoping to distract her.

The girl shook her head, looking up as she held onto the food with her good hand. “No.” 

Hashiki sang it. “Pump-kin, pump-kin, big and round, pumpkin sit-ting on the ground. Pump-kin, pumpkin I can tell, pumpkin you will feed me well!” She tried to make it the silliest voice she could, and when Cisi giggled, Hashiki grinned too.

“Sing it again!” came the request. Hashiki did, pleased when the little girl joined in. They sang it one more time and by then the child’s wrist was wrapped and one of the doctors—Heko—was humming it as well.

“And I don’t even _like_ pumpkin." he admitted, grinning at Hashiki. “Thank you for calming her.” 

She watched Cisi hand part of her food to her father, who murmured his thanks to the doctor and herself before they left the aid station. “It’s nothing . . . whatever I can do. How many more?”

“Nearly done,” Heko told her, “at least here in the market. There are two concussion cases Fure and I want to keep an eye on, and I’m not happy with Tusa Ela’s ribs but as soon as we can get him to the hospital the better.”

“Can we move him?” Hashiki asked. There had been reports coming in from most of the outlying settlements, and the best news so far was that the hospital built into part of the mountainside had survived the worst of the quake.

“We may need Mai Hikima’s cart for that,” Heko pointed out, “but I want him to rest before we make that trip.”

Hashiki nodded and twenty minutes later, when the last patient was done, she rose up, feeling a fresh wave of aches through her body. Flexing a little against the cramps, she looked around the marketplace, sighing.

So much damage. Hashiki wasn’t an expert on earthquakes but this one had been strong, and she wondered how the rest of the nation was faring. The capital would recover quickly, and T’Challa would send relief soon, but until that happened everyone would have to make do.

She wandered over to where Mai Hikima was dozing against her cart, wrapped in a torn blanket and snoring lightly. Hashiki dropped down next to her, smiling. The old woman stirred, catching sight of her and smiling back. “Aren’t we a pair? There is more dirt on me than in my garden!”

“True. I feel like one of the vines myself,” Hashiki laughed tiredly. “Where is M’Baku?”

He’s been digging people out,” Mai Hikima replied thoughtfully. “Most of the market is cleared, and his warriors are working on making the roads passable. We cannot go home, Hashiki. Not yet and not just because it’s a long way, but . . .”

Hashiki understood. She slipped an arm around Mai Hikima and hugged her. “We’ll find him.”

And an hour later, when she and several other survivors were sitting around a bonfire in the market, sharing roasted sweet potatoes and ears of corn, both Hashiki and Mai Hikima heard the indignant bleating that was getting louder.

Hashiki got to her feet as M’Baku strode into the market square, a very annoyed Laki on his massive shoulders and the very sight took her breath away. She’d always known M’Baku was a giant of a man but to see him shirtless; totting the beast around his strong neck while sweat glittered along his chest had Hashiki swallowing hard.

The goat was protesting stridently but M’Baku ignored the animal, lifting him off and setting him down by the cart as people pointed and grinned. Mai Hikima rose up and hobbled over, hooking a gnarled finger into Laki’s bridle.

“Where have you been you naughty, _naughty_ goat! Running off and _leaving_ us!” She scolded him.

“Where he has been is in your kitchen eating all the mangos and bananas in the fruit bowl,” M’Baku replied dryly. “We are going home now and when we get there---just be careful where you step, Babba.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as I was writing this, we just had a little earthquake here. Coincidence?


	9. Chapter 9

The next few days were hectic and full of hard work. Hashiki threw herself into cleaning Mai Hikima’s house while her older friend watched over the village children down in the square. M’Baku seemed to be everywhere: supervising rubble clearing, moving the injured to the hospital; assisting anyone who needed a strong back and arms to right what the earthquake had undone.

In the evenings the three of them had dinner together, talking over the events of the day, and Hashiki found herself savoring the comfortable joy of that. While she was a fair cook, M’Baku was a better one, and Mai Hikima shamelessly praised both of them. Once the meal and dishes were done, she and M’Baku would take a stroll in the twilight.

The first two times M’Baku insisted on going through public places and Hashiki assumed it was his way of letting his people see where he was---or so she thought. Given the smiles and knowing looks from citizens they passed it gradually dawned on her that this was some version of Jabari courtship. On the third night, she refused to go.

“No. I am _not_ going with you just to have everyone making assumptions!” she told him firmly. “No.”

“Ah but if you don’t go with me everyone will make _other_ assumptions,” M’Baku countered, cocking his head and watching her, a small smile on his lips.

“ _What_ assumptions?” Hashiki demanded, dropping her hands to her hips.

“All sorts,” he told her. “That we have had a fight; that you are pregnant--”

“—WHAT? No, that is ridiculous! You and I, we have not even . . . NO!” Hashiki felt as if her face was on fire and she squirmed in her embarrassed anguish. “ _How_ would that even be considered? I’ve been here less than two _weeks_ for Bast’s sake!”

“So come with me now, and we will _show_ them you’re not pregnant. Good.” He took her hand and with the other grabbed a spear. “Take that packet too, please.”

Reluctantly Hashiki did, realizing it was an insulated mail pouch. She followed M’Baku out, maintaining a distance between them as they walked, not that he said anything about it. “So what are you going to do?”

“Send messages,” he told her. “Families are worried, and although some of our people have left the mountains, they still have ties here. We need to reassure them.”

Hashiki nodded. “Well of course, but _how_? With the bridge gone it will be a while before you can weave another, and unless you can _fly_ , I don’t see a way to deliver this to anyone.”

“Have faith,” M’Baku smiled at her. “In the meantime, try _not_ to act pregnant.”

She swatted his big arm; unfortunately a young woman carrying water was coming up the road and smirked at them. When she passed them, she murmured, “ _Don haka cikin soyyaya._ ”

“We’re _not_!” Hashiki called back over her shoulder. “Not even a _little_ bit in love! We are just walking here!”

“Oh my heart,” M’Baku rumbled lightly. “Not even a _tiny_ bit? After all the vines I’ve clipped for you, all the goats I have put up with for you . . . .”

“It’s just _one_ goat, and we ALL have to put up with him,” Hashiki retorted. “And _I_ was the one clipping the vines. You stood around and watched me.”

“I suppose it would be completely manipulative of me to point out that _I_ hauled you up from certain bloody death along the edge of a cliff?” His voice was lower still, a warm purr with no teasing in the tone.

Hashiki stopped. When he turned to face her, she reached out for his hand, taking it, feeling the heat of his skin. “It _would_ be, yes,” she replied quietly. “But . . . I _deserve_ that reminder. You are a good man, M’Baku Iko Tsawa, and for the life of me I don’t understand anything that is happening between us. We barely know each other and yet I feel as if I DO. How can that _be_?”

He took her question seriously, making it a point to hold her gaze in the soft light. “What we _know_ is very different from what we _feel_ , oh Hashiki. That is exactly the reason why the Jabari stand alone in Wakanda. The king and the capital have it backwards, you see. In this life, you must _feel_ something before you know it. T’Challa and his tribes want to know _first_ , not trusting themselves to feel their way to the truth. Facts over instincts instead of the correct way around; when you sense and consider and explore the new information in front of you.”

Hashiki opened her mouth to protest, but as she considered M’Baku’s words, she reluctantly nodded. “You . . . are making sense, of a sort.”

“Is that a compliment? I will take it as one,” M’Baku chuckled. Still holding hands they had reached the market and sauntered through it together. Torches lit the way and most of the rubble had been cleared. Two girls watched them pass and giggled, clutching each other.

“How long,” Hashiki muttered, “will this go on?”

“I have no idea,” M’Baku told her. “It’s difficult to judge the entertainment value we are providing.”

She snorted, giving up and letting him set the pace as they passed through the market and along the path that led to the cliffside. Each step was a little harder the closer they got, and when they finally made it through the clearing, Hashiki was shivering. In the moonlight the chasm mists rose up like spirits, and each star above was a glittering diamond in the dark velvet sky.

“You are safe,” M’Baku assured her again, squeezing her hand before letting go. “Do you see the other side?”

She focused there, spotting the trunk ends of the bridge in the distance. One was uprooted and leaned forward, bits of bridge dangling forlornly from it. “Yes. How far is it?”

“Roughly one hundred and ten meters,” M’Baku told her. He was wrapping the mailing pouch around the shaft of the spear and binding it tightly with twine. “The furthest javelin throw on _record_ was one hundred and four.”

“And that was without wind and weight on the javelin,” Hashiki countered, watching him.

He flashed a grin at her before hefting the spear. “True, yet I have the _power_ of the great ape behind me, and the _strength_ of my people to guide me.”

Hashiki smiled, the rush of something tender nearly overwhelming her. She reached up to cup her hands along his cheeks, feeling the brush of his beard on her palms. Carefully, Hashiki pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.

It was a good kiss; sweet and hot, full of promises for future kisses and when she pulled back, M’Baku shuddered, nearly dropping the spear.

“Ooh I want another,” he told her. “I claim _another_ as my reward when I finish this.”

She waved a hand towards the gorge and waited. Her stomach felt hot and her senses dizzy, as if some magic in the night had been ignited.

M’Baku paced back along the path until he was nearly out of sight. For several seconds Hashiki waited, and finally---

He came running hard, bringing the spear up and launching it into the night with one explosive throw. Whistling, the spear shot up, arcing high in a graceful flight over the chasm, soaring swiftly. Hashiki watched it, tensing until long moments later it struck cleanly on the worn path between the far posts, quivering when it hit.

“Ha!” M’Baku roared, raising his muscled arms in triumph. “Take _that_ , Uwe Hohn of Germany, former record holder!”

Hashiki laughed, the sound bubbling up in giggly delight as she watched him strut around, waving to an imaginary crowd. When he returned to her, she held out her arms. “You should create the Wakandan Games, just so you can win all the events.”

“Later,” he growled, and kissed her. This time Hashiki was the one left breathless as M’Baku lifted her off her feet, his hands clamping firmly and possessively on her backside. This meant she was pressed up against him and with delight she wrapped her legs around him, returning the kiss wholeheartedly.

They kept kissing, and Hashiki learned many things quickly. One was that M’Baku had a weakness for having his ears nibbled. Two was that she had the same weakness. She also came to realize that she ached for him, desired him with a drive so strong it stunned her. She spoke against his cheek, her words thick. “If we . . . do not _stop_ . . .”

“ . . . you _will_ . . . be pregnant,” M’Baku growled in wry amusement, his breathing erratic. “Do not shame me before our people, Doc-tor M’Wanga. Do not make me a single father to be pitied!”

Hashiki giggled again. “Always about _you_ , isn’t it? As if I _could_ abandon you, or Mai Hikima!”

He kissed her again, moving down her throat and leaving her utterly weak. “It’s about . . . _you_ ,” M’Baku rumbled against her skin. “About how the scent of your skin drives me crazy, about the sweet, sweet sway of your _baya_ when you walk and ohhhh . . . .”

Hashiki tightened her legs around him, wriggling a little, finding a perfect friction for both of them. Very quickly the sound of his heavy breathing was like a drug, and certainly the press of his heavy shaft between her thighs made it clear M’Baku was just as aroused as she was. It didn’t take long for either of them; between the heat and hunger, Hashiki let herself climax, her body pulsing against his, throbbing with pleasure as she squealed out his name, clinging to his big shoulders breathlessly.

It was only when she heard him groan deeply and felt the hot dampness seeping along her thigh and hip that Hashiki realized M’Baku too, had come. She dropped her face against the crook of his neck, kissing the side of his face as he shuddered, his grip on her tighter than ever. 

“I . . . should not have done that,” M’Baku sighed a few moments later, very gently loosening his grip to let Hashiki slide down and stand again, still hugging him. “But by all that is holy and right for the Jabari I do _not_ regret a _second_ of it.”

“Nor I,” Hashiki confessed, feeling more languid than remorseful. “I do not know if it is the moonlight or the fact that you are a force to be reckoned with but . . . thank you.”

He laughed, deep in his chest. “You are welcome. How do you _feel_ about this? As opposed to what you _know_ , I mean.”

Hashiki thought about it before she spoke. As she did so, she splayed a hand on M’Baku’s shirt, aware of the dampness, and the heavy muscle under her touch, of his scent of moss, and clean sweat. “I _feel_ . . . very good,” Hashiki murmured. “Right here and now.”

“And what do you _know_?” M’Baku asked, nuzzling the top of her head, bearded chin brushing her braids.

“I _know_ ,” she told him, “that if we do not get cleaned up soon we will be _glued_ together. Please tell me we can do so _without_ going back through the marketplace.”

“It so happens I know _just_ the place to go for that,” M’Baku said.


	10. Chapter 10

Walking in the night through an unknown forest was not something Hashiki did in general; growing up along the border settlements and then living in the capital made her more of a city girl. But she trusted the man leading her and realized how attuned he was to his environment. The way M’Baku stopped to listen periodically, the easy natural way he found the clearest path impressed her and when they reached the little sparkling waterfall pouring into the pool below she drew a breath at the sight.

It gleamed in the moonlight, and fluttering all around it were moths. Big glowing moths with blue and silver light on their wings. Hashiki stopped, staring in delight. “Oh what enchantment is this!”

M’Baku noted her surprise and grinned. “We call them _haske asu_ —bright moths. Surely you’ve seen them before?”

“Never!” Hashiki replied, entranced. “They’re lovely!”

“The legend says that they are the eyes of the night,” M’Baku told her. “Keeping watch through the dark. Comforting when you are a child. _Not_ so much when you are a teenaged boy.”

Hashiki laughed, looking at him affectionately. “And now?”

“The eyes of the night have seen as much of me as they _ever_ will,” he sighed. “We can bathe here, although it will be a little cold.”

“Wait, _bathe_?” Hashiki blurted but M’Baku was already clawing his back to pull his shirt off. He nodded, stepping into the water.

“Haskiki, my blossom, I cannot face my Babba with lustful residue all over me. I may be _brave_ but I am not _stupid_ , and neither is _she_.”

“Ooh,” she complained, wading in after him. “I suppose we _deserve_ this.” The water was indeed chilly but the sand underfoot felt nice and Hashiki followed M’Baku to where it was waist deep, her kanga floating around her hips. The forest around them rustled a little, and the moths flitted around the little waterfall, their light in bright sparkles that reflected in the water.

She felt suddenly shy and awkward; unsure of what to say to the man next to her. Hashiki knew she’d never been a flirty sort of woman and not the sort to have all the right words at the right time. In an attempt to distract herself, she splashed water on her arms and stomach. “What will she think when we come back soaking wet?”

“Knowing Babba, she will _pretend_ to believe whatever story we tell her,” M’Baku grumbled, “and then when _you_ are not around, she will demand to know if I am trying to _court_ you or _drown_ you.”

A giggle escaped her. “Which is it?”

M’Baku gave a put-upon sigh and turned to her, looking surprisingly shy. “The former, although you are _not_ making it an easy matter. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to impress you, Hashiki? How _hard_ it is to be worthy?”

She was so shocked she stumbled, splashing a little to catch her balance. “What?”

M’Baku looked down. “You are educated, with _degrees_ after your name. You are wise in ways of the capital. AND you are compassionate and kind to everyone and far too beautiful. It is completely _unfair_ to expect any man to live up to all that!” 

“No, that’s crazy!” Hashiki spluttered, overwhelmed. “M’Baku _you_ are a dedicated ruler! You take care of an _entire_ tribe! You lead and educate and mediate and work to keep everyone safe and _still_ find time to take care of your grandmother as well! You _know_ your people and your land in a way nobody _else_ ever will come close to doing and you ask nothing in return for _all_ your service! Me, _I’m_ the unworthy one here!”

He moved closer to her, meeting her gaze, his own soft and shy.

“Go _on_ ,” he rumbled, and broke into a grin.

“Youuuuuuu!” Hashiki splashed him; instantly the mood turned playful. She avoided his grip, darting around M’Baku and taunting him as he tried to charge her, clumsy as a wet bear. Hashiki then clambered onto his broad back, fully intending on dunking him but it was like trying to bend an iron girder, and he played along, looking around and ignoring her grip. “Where _are_ you little blossom? Where can you _possibly_ be?”

“You impossible, impossible man,” she huffed into his ear before sliding off and into the water again, laughing.

By the time they were willing to call a truce both of them were soaked and they climbed onto the bank, breathless and smiling. Hashiki wrung out her skirt and shook out her braids, feeling young and silly. She watched him pull on his shirt (which seemed a crime with a chest like his) and sighed.

She spoke, just as M’Baku did as well. “Ina son ku.”

“What?”

“What?” 

They stared at each other. M’Baku smirked. “Did you just say you _loved_ me?”

“No I’m pretty sure _you_ just said you loved _me_ ,” Hashiki retorted, not willing to give an inch.

“I know what _I_ said; what did _you_ say?” he demanded.

“I said what _you_ said,” she countered, reaching up to brush her fingers through his beard. “And I think we need to go home now.”

*** *** ***

Mai Hikima had already been asleep by the time they’d gotten back and Hashiki was glad of that; she wasn’t certain she was ready to explain anything that had happened. In the morning she made it a point to go out and check on the beehive just to give herself some time to think.

And remember.

And worry.

The hive was looking well; nothing harvestable yet of course, but to her eye the bees seemed contented in their new home on the edge of the calabash patch. Hashiki found a quiet spot under a mountain pine and gave herself over to her thoughts.

As long as the bridge was out, she had no way to leave . . . not that she was in any hurry to do so if she was being honest with herself. Hashiki studied her hands; once they’d been soft and groomed but since the earthquake they’d developed a few calluses, and that pleased her. 

“It’s hard work, being in the field,” she murmured to herself, “but I love it. The sunshine, the smells and the peace. And so many specimens with more out there to discover! If only I could make Lelethu understand how much more there is to do here, to study here!”

_And there was **him** of course,_ Hashiki thought. The man she’d feared meeting and now feared leaving. Idly, her glance shifted to the greenery, and she nearly screamed when she found someone skulking in the tangle of undergrowth not three feet in front of her.

Someone with a white grin and a ferocious look.

“Greetings oh She who tends the Earth,” the Hyena rasped from his crouch. “I have come to warn you.”

Hashiki got to her feet warily. “Greetings,” she called back. “Warn me of what?”

“In a dream, I saw a crocodile come from the sky,” he waved a gnarled hand upward, his head weaving back and forth. “You must face this one. And remember what holds you to the land. What keeps you between the sun and the water.”

“I don’t understand,” Hashiki blurted, torn between panic and confusion. The Hyena rose unsteadily, his body shaking and she could see him struggling with some unseen pain. He took a breath to steady himself and looked at her, his blind eye as wide as his good one.

“Face the crocodile and stand strong. Remember that which holds you high and safe, oh queen to be . . . I have no other words to make it _plain_ to you.” He looked haggard in the sunshine and she felt a rush of compassion for this strange sage.

“I will _remember_ what you have told me,” Hashiki called to him. “Thank you for your words of warning, keeper of dreams.”

The old man bowed his head, his snaky dreads cascading down his thin shoulders. “Then we are _both_ grateful for this meeting. Sing to your hive,” the Hyena added, smiling for a moment. “A song of blossoms will cheer them greatly. Walk ever in light, _sarauniya._ ”

He slipped away into the tangle between the trees, disappearing even as Hashiki watched him go. When the Hyena had vanished, Hashiki pondered his words and wondered what they meant. Dreams were hard enough to decipher when they were your _own_ , she knew. Figuring out what someone _else’s_ meant was twice as hard. Still, it had been important enough to bring him down from the mountain so Hashiki repeated his words to herself.

“Face the crocodile; remember what holds you to the land,” she recited carefully before dusting off her rump and humming for the bees.


	11. Chapter 11

The ship arrived a little past noon, casting a shadow over the marketplace and looming above the green lattice. People looked up, alarmed at the loss of sunshine, tensing as they recognized the vehicle as one of the transports from the capital. Hashiki was in one of the community gardens, working with some of the gardeners when Cisi came running to fetch her.

“They are calling your name from _up_!” the little girl puffed, her words whistling from the gap of her missing front teeth. “Pleasssse come sssssee!”

Hashiki dusted the dirt off her fingers and hurried up the path, feeling a knot of tension in her stomach, a knot that grew as she approached the marketplace to see a descent ramp lowering into the square, ripping a hole in the delicate lattice of plants and vines there. The people looked upset, and some of the guards were tightening their grips on their spears. Without hesitating, Hashiki called up, “No! You _need_ to be at the chasm! Back _up_ and take the ship to the _chasm_!”

A tinny voice echoed back down. “What? What are you _saying_ , Doctor M’Wanga? We are bringing supplies and aid.”

“Yes and thank you, but you _cannot_ just descend here without _permission_!” she cupped her hands around her mouth as she spoke to the ship. “This is _not_ your territory and you need _permission_. Go _back_ to the chasm, please.”

There was a pause and a grumble. “You’re _serious_?”

“I _am_ ,” Hashiki shot back. In the market people were nodding and looking at her with respect. A few of the guards began trotting down the path leading to the chasm. One of the others came to Hashiki.

“I will inform M’Baku, Doctor. Perhaps you should go to the chasm as well.”

She nodded, watching the ship rise again and turn. “Yes. This may not be pleasant.”

The guard gave a nod of agreement and ran as Hashiki headed towards the chasm, feeling a little sick. She’d seen that the packets of mail had been picked up and knew, logically, that _some_ sort of help would be coming but somehow she’d expected a group on the far side of the chasm, building a temporary bridge perhaps.

Hashiki reached the edge of the cliff, watching the ship hover into position as the guards held their spears at the ready. The metal ramp slid down, the end coming to rest on the ground and as someone stepped out halfway down one of the guards called up to her.

“Who comes to Jabari lands?”

The imperious woman with an annoyed expression glared at them. “I am Doctor Lelethu Ullala, Director of the Botanical Laboratories of the Institute for Achievement. Where is Doctor M’Wanga?”

“I’m right _here_ Lelethu,” Hashiki called to her. “What are you _doing_ here? I thought this ship was delivering aid for the earthquake?”

Another person stepped down, a chubby man with a tablet in his hand. “Olloko Loffo, Rescue and Recovery. Does anyone need transport to medical facilities?” he boomed out cheerily. “We have room for twenty.”

“Ah, two. I think we will need two,” Hashiki replied as she heard footsteps behind her. Turning she saw M’Baku in full armor striding up, his face a mask of polite anger. For a moment Hashiki wondered if she’d overstepped herself, but realized his expression was directed at the two people on the ramp.

“State your business.” He stood at the foot of the ramp, arms crossed as he glared up at them, looking magnificently ferocious.

Doctor Ullala stared back at him. “ _This_ one is here to help and render assistance for whatever casualties you have. _I_ am here to bring Doctor M’Wanga back to the capital.”

M’Baku unfolded his arms and pointed at Olloko Loffo. “You, cross and take the oath, then. Ebeki, when he is done show him to the hospital.”

“What about me?” Doctor Ullala called out impatiently.

M’Baku eyed her dryly. “What _about_ you?”

“I _said_ I am here for Doctor M’Wanga, or are you deaf?” came the impatient retort.

“I am _not_ , and until you learn proper manners . . .” M’Baku squatted and grabbed the end of the ramp. Muscles straining, he bent it upwards, making the vibranium reinforced steel creak as he rolled it up.

Doctor Ullala wobbled and scampered back up into the ship, squawking as she did so. “I will _report_ you! I will _report_ you for this, you insolent overbearing _beast_!”

“DO IT!” M’Baku roared. “Just don’t forget to let the king know about you destroyed part of our marketplace and came across the chasm without observing the protocols that go back millennia as _well_ , woman!”

Hashiki stared at him, feeling a wave of awe wash over her, a sense of pride and joy and love swelling inside as he stood there glaring in towering defiance at the ship.

She moved to stand next to him. “ _Ina son ku,_ definitely,” Hashiki murmured for M’Baku’s ears only. One corner of his mouth quirked at her words.

“Oh dear,” Olloko Loffo murmured shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Err, Oh Esteemed M’Baku, leader of the Jabari, um, it may be more difficult to move the wounded now . . . “

“I can straighten it out again,” M’Baku muttered to him as the ship retracted the damaged ramp as far as it could and moved back to the other side of the chasm. “Just go and see what needs to be done for our wounded.” He turned to Hashiki as the guards led Olloko Loffo up the path. “Who is that witch and what power does she _have_ over you?”

“That,” Hashiki murmured, “Is my boss. I work for her at the Institute.”

“My condolences,” M’Baku teased and grew serious again. “But truly what does she want?”

“I don’t know,” Hashiki admitted. “It cannot be my company; we were never friends, per se. Perhaps it is a summons from the king.”

From the other side of the chasm, a broadcasted voice from the ship called, “We seek entry to Jabari land, M’Baku of the White Gorilla!”

M’Baku turned, his hands on his hips. “No! Ask again tomorrow. Politely.”

Hashiki smothered her giggles and when he motioned for her to accompany him back to the marketplace, she did, without looking back. “You are . . . ferocious!”

“I protect my own,” he rumbled impatiently. “We have two seriously wounded folk and two others who would benefit from care in the capital—I won’t let my pride stop them from going, but I won’t put up with a haughty she-mongoose looking down on us in the process.”

The image of Lelethu, furry and standing on her hind legs brought on more giggles, and Hashiki tried to smother them back as they reached the marketplace. People came up to her, patting her arms and smiling.

“Thank you! Bless you,” many of them murmured. Mai Hikima was among them, coming forward to hug Hashiki.

“They tell me you made the strangers to go back to the front door!” She croaked, grinning. “Now you really _are_ Jabari, Hashiki!”

“I . . . suppose I am,” she admitted with a smile. “Although I was more worried about the lattice being destroyed.”

“Are they here to help?” Mai Hikima wanted to know. “About _time_! We could use bricks, and a few more bushels of wheat and corn.”

“They are here for more than _that_ ,” M’Baku growled, and filled his grandmother in on all that had happened at the chasm.

Mai Hikima puffed up with anger, grumbling as she passed her stone walking stick from one gnarled hand to the other. “Ohhhh, so she thinks _just_ because the bridge is gone she can come _sauntering_ in? I can give her a knock or two about the head to put some sense back _into_ her!”

“Don’t!” Hashiki pleaded. “I know she is making a poor impression but she must have a reason for coming and I will deal with her myself, eh?”

“Well whatever it is will be bad news for _us_ ,” Mai Hikima grumbled. “I can feel it in my bones. Where do you want to meet her? At my house or in the throne room?”

“The throne room,” Hashiki replied. “It’s not a _social_ visit and I want witnesses.”

M’Baku and Mai Hikima nodded.

*** *** ***

A day’s delay had not improved Doctor Ullala’s temperament; she sailed into the throne room twenty-four hours later, scowling amid her River Tribe finery and face paint. Hashiki stood waiting in borrowed purple, trying to be calm but tension had her clenching her teeth. Not even the reassurance of M’Baku on his throne watching helped that.

“ _Finally_ ,” Doctor Ullala grumbled. “I hope you are satisfied that _protocol_ has now been followed?” this was to M’Baku, who didn’t blink.

He snapped his fingers and two of his guards moved to flank the doctor, towering over her as she flinched.

“Do not try my _patience_ , woman. I can and _will_ have you . . . _escorted_ out of my sight for as many days as you wish to _play_ this foolish game.”

Somewhat deflated, Doctor Ullala gave a curt nod and the guards stepped away. Hashiki cleared her throat and took a step forward, trying to smile. “So, Lelethu what is this all about? Why am I being sent for?”

Turning and ignoring M’Baku, Doctor Ullala gave a put-upon sigh. “It seems that because of your success in finding not one but _several_ viable rootstock for _isityalo senhliziyo_ the king had decided to promote you to head of a new project in our labs. You will be running the Botanical Mapping Mission out of the Institute as of right now.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Wait, wait,” Hashiki held up a hand. “Exactly _when_ was this all decided for me?” She felt a little stab of anger now, a sense of frustration.

“Oh for Bast’s sake!” Doctor Ullala burst out, her fists on her hips. “This is a HUGE honor and a major advancement for you! What does it matter _how_ it came about?”

“That may be so,” Hashiki replied slowly, “but it’s a little out of the blue, Lelethu. I may be naïve at times but even _I_ know something like this doesn’t come from nowhere.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw that M’Baku was watching closely, his mouth pursed.

“Details, details! Fine! Princess Shuri has been overseeing the restorative work on the heart-shaped herb in a _minor_ capacity and conceived the idea, which she took to the king. Apparently she put _your_ name forward for head of the project out of some misguided affection for you as her old professor. T’Challa feels the project has merit and so here we are, standing around on a freezing mountain instead of sipping tea in my office!”

And Hashiki understood.

She looked at Lelethu Ullala in her jade capulana decorated with shells and embroidered egrets; saw the cameo pendant of Sobek around her neck and smiled. _Green with envy and ready to bite_ , Hashiki thought to herself. _Crocodile indeed._

“Doctor Ullala it is an amazing honor and definitely a worthwhile undertaking but I’m _not_ the right person for it,” Hashiki replied. She saw M’Baku move to protest and shot him a sweet look until he settled back on his throne before she continued. “Let us be honest with each other, Lelethu---I’m much happier working on my own, and this would take all sorts of administrative skills that I don’t _have_.”

“I _know_ ,” Doctor Ullala agreed, slightly deflated but still with an edge of annoyance. “I tried to tell them that, but would they listen? _No_.”

“And there is _also_ a debt of duty that I owe to the leader here,” Hashiki continued. “As member of the priest tribe I cannot walk away from that obligation without _paying_ it.”

Now both Doctor Ullala and M’Baku were staring at her but Hashiki managed a serene smile as she added, “So considering those factors, I believe it would be in everyone’s best interest if _you_ headed up the project instead of me.”

“I . . . are you sure?” Doctor Ullala asked uncertainly. “Hashiki, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! You’d be honored throughout the nation! You’d be in the textbooks!”

“What I’d truly be is over my head in dealing with departments and meetings and deadlines,” came the confident reply, “and that’s _not_ my forte, Lelethu. You know I’m best when left to my own line of research. Yes, I would like to be a part of the project and I volunteer to work on behalf of it here in Jabari territory if I’m allowed but as for heading it up, you are the far _better_ candidate.”

A sense of peace flowed through her and Hashiki added, “I am grateful to be asked, and touched that Shuri thinks I’m up to it, but it’s the sort of project you would _excel_ at, Lelethu.”

“Well . . .” Doctor Ullala hesitated a fraction of a moment. “No-one can say I _didn’t_ try to convince you to accept the position. I’ll do it, then—”

M’Baku cleared his throat and the menacing rumble was enough to make both women flinch and look at him. He leaned forward baring his teeth.

“Not that you tried very _hard_ ,” he told Doctor Ullala, just to see her tense up. “It seems to me that Doctor M’Wanga is being exceedingly gracious and perhaps a bit _hasty_ in ceding this position to you. Therefore you will give her twenty-four hours to finalize her decision.”

“Twenty-four hours!” came Doctor Ullala’s protest. The guards took one step towards her; she went silent, fuming.

“Time enough to unload what aid you have brought and stabilize the wounded enough to travel,” M’Baku pointed out. “I’m sure you’ll agree those are the _true_ priorities. We are _done_ here. Go.”

“But--” 

“Done,” M’Baku repeated impatiently, waving a dismissing hand towards Doctor Ullala. “Go sulk somewhere else before I have you removed. With _prejudice_.”

The moment Doctor Ullala stalked out of the long hallway M’Baku dismissed the guards and rounded on Hashiki. “Are you _insane_?”

“Not usually,” Hashiki countered, exasperated affection rising up in her. “But being around you it’s probably contagious. Why are you angry?”

“Because you are passing up well-earned recognition from the king of Wakanda!” M’Baku roared. “And giving it to that, that back-knifing _lizard_ woman of all people!” He glared at Hashiki but she lifted her chin and met his gaze calmly.

“Do you love me?” she murmured. 

Startled, M’Baku caught himself. “Yes. Yes I _do_ , Hanuman help me.”

“Good,” Hashiki sighed. “I gave it up not only because what I told Lelethu was true—I AM hopeless at academic leadership and all the fiddly bits of organization for an undertaking this size—but also because I realized I love you _too_. And if I took on this project, I would not be coming back to this corner of Wakanda for _months_. Most likely years, M’Baku. And I couldn’t _bear_ that.”

It was a lovely thing to watch his expression shift; to see the anger soften to the shy look that Hashiki knew was for her alone. He drew in an impossibly deep breath and took her into his arms. “It would probably kill me as _well_ , but your career, your future . . . that’s too _much_ to sacrifice, my blossom. Opportunities like this don’t come along every day.”

“Yes, well neither do feisty old women with ornery goats and amazing grandsons,” Hashiki whispered, her lips close to his ear. “I walked into Jabari lands looking for vines and found so much _more_ , beloved. _So_ much more.”

His arms tightened around her and Hashiki felt herself tear up. “So yes, I am passing it up and it is the right thing to do. I want to stay, M’Baku. I want to be here because I AM Jabari.”

“No,” he countered, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “You will stay because you will be my wife, Hashiki M’Wanga. The Jabari part is just a bonus.”

“ _Will_ be?” Hashiki prodded, arching an eyebrow at him.

Chagrined, M’Baku cleared his throat. “Consider it a . . . forceful offer. A powerful suggestion.”

“A purposeful proposal?”

“Precisely,” M’Baku agreed, nuzzling her cheek. “Oh Hashiki, it won’t be a glamorous life, and I cannot promise you the _prestige_ that would be your due in the capital, but all I have will be yours as well here.”

She pretended to hesitate, tickled to see him looking big and anxious as watched her face, waiting for an answer.

“Does that include the piri-piri patch?”

His grin was slow, but it spread across his face as M’Baku chuckled. “Ooh you are _bargaining_ now! I approve. Yes, half the piri-piri patch. I will give you ALL the okra as well.”

“What? You don’t even _like_ okra,” Hashiki pointed out, her lips hovering near his.

“ _Nobody_ likes okra,” M’Baku reminded her. “Not even Laki.”

Giggling, she kissed him.

*** *** *** 

Something nagged at Hashiki and she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something just outside the edge of her thinking. Something important. She tried not to let it bother her as she and M’Baku told Mai Hikima about their plans and the older woman’s delighted shrieks and hugs were enough to drive it from her thoughts.

“Yes! Yes! Oh blessed Hanuman I had hoped for this!” Mai Hikima chortled, rocking side to side with delight. “More family! A grand-daughter! Soon great-grandbabies to spoil!”

“Whoa, slow _down_!” M’Baku admonished his grandmother. “You will scare half the mountain with those noises!”

Mai Hikima scowled. “I have ten years left! I can’t wait around _forever_ to be a great-grandmother you know!”

“First things first,” M’Baku countered. “Much as I love and respect you, Babba, there are people who need help before we get to weddings and babies.”

“Then what are you standing around _here_ for?” Mai Hikima wanted to know. She prodded his stomach with one gnarled finger. “Get moving, Yaro!”

Giving Hashiki a weary glance, M’Baku muttered, “I _told_ you there wouldn’t be much glamor to it.”

She giggled and watched him go. As soon as he was gone, Mai Hikima rounded on her, looking serious.

“You _do_ love him, yes?”

“Yes,” Hashiki nodded. “I do, even though we’ve barely known each other a month now.”

Mai Hikima waved a dismissing hand. “Bah! I met MY husband for the first time on our wedding day. Our families had arranged it, mostly because I was considered too headstrong to keep at home. And of course _he_ was terrified, since my reputation was known even in his village. But . . .” she sighed in contentment, “it became one of the best parts of my life.”

“Then there’s hope yet,” Hashiki smiled. “I think M’Baku and I are what my own grandmother would call ‘well-suited.’

“Yes,” Mai Hikima agreed, “You two are like vines; entwined but different, _anchors_ for each other.”

Hashiki’s eyes widened and she stared at the older woman, feeling a rush of recognition, of understanding. She took in a deep breath. “Say that again!”

Puzzled, Mai Hikima repeated, “You and Yaro are like vines, Hashiki. Entwined but different, anchors for each other.”

“Yes! Vines! That’s IT!” Hashiki shouted. “Now I GET it! I know that I need to do!”


	13. Chapter 13

She ran lightly down the hill and through the marketplace, dodging people, avoiding carts and children who scattered, laughing. Hashiki waved to them and kept going, making her way along the path until she reached the cliff, stopping to catch her breath when she arrived.

The chasm loomed below, mists rising up from the Kankara River and curling in the sunshine. The far side stood empty but Hashiki saw the two posts for the broken bridge still there. She slowly moved to the edge, fighting fear, letting her mind focus on the Hyena’s words.

“Remember what holds you to the land,” She recited to herself. “What keeps you between the sun and the water. That which holds me high and safe.”

Hashiki knelt down and tenderly touched a long thick vine that trailed down over the edge of the cliff. “And those are all YOU.”

She laughed, looking once again across the void to the far side. “A bridge. Not of wood, not of rope, but of _vines_. Woven tree branches, bamboo and vines. Growing from both sides, supported by vines above and below . . . it would hold, even through an earthquake. It would give enough to stay together. It. Would. **Hold**!” she shouted that last, feeling a joyous surge of delight. Hashiki rose up and danced a little, laughing. “ _That_ is what he meant!”

Closing her eyes she pictured it, solid and strong; a leafy green span over the gorge reaching from one side to the other, linking Jabari lands to the rest of Wakanda. 

Glorious.

She opened her eyes again and lifted her chin, her mind flooding with plans: consultations with engineers and gardeners; design ideas; more specimens and samples . . . all of them exciting. And behind all that a tall, broad-shouldered man urging her on, teasing her, loving her, supporting her every step of the way---

Too much. Hashiki collapsed, letting the tears come, unable to keep her joy bottled up a moment longer. She cried, wiping her eyes, letting herself marvel in her good fortune before taking a deep breath afterwards and rising again to her feet.

“Sooooo much to do!” Hashiki told herself, “and it’s time to get started.”

*** 

Hashiki told Mai Hikima and M’Baku her revelation over dinner; they were sitting down to a feast of roasted corn porridge with tomatoes and sweet peppers when she told them what she envisioned.

“A _living_ bridge. Vines and bamboo, trained across the chasm, supported by more vines from trees on each side, and possibly one or two trees rising up from the chasm below,” she waved her arms in the air, sketching it out for them. “Strong yet flexible, more easily repairable than rope or board.”

“Brilliant!” Mai Hikima breathed, grinning. “What an idea!”

M’Baku looked impressed and thoughtful. “It’s ingenious yes, but wouldn’t this take years?”

“Not as much time as you’d think,” Hashiki assured him. “We’ll create a rope bridge as a foundation and cultivate the plants along it. Bamboo can grow nearly a third of a meter a day, and some of the groundcover vines are nearly as fast. If we start from both sides, we could have the distance spanned in a year or sooner.”

“And from the bottom of the chasm?” M’Baku asked.

“One of the Foxglove hybrids,” Hashiki replied. “A pair of those would reach the bridge in a few years with proper care.”

“I see you have this all thought out,” he murmured. “I wish _I_ could give you permission, but I cannot.”

Hashiki’s face fell, but Mai Hikima laid a hand on her arm soothingly. “He means it must be brought before the _village_ , dear girl. The bridge affects us all, so we _all_ must have a say in it.”

“Ohhhhh,” Hashiki sighed. “Do you think they’ll agree to it?”

Mai Hikima pretended to think it over. “Hmmmmm, presenting a planet-friendly project to an entire tribe _dedicated_ to the conservation of and functional _use_ of the living greenery of our world . . . somehow I just suspect they _might_.”

*** 

A month later, the wedding of Hashiki Iyola M’Wanga and M’Baku Iko T’Sawa took most of a sunny afternoon and a great deal of patience on the bride’s part. Hashiki didn’t mind hosting a feast for the villagers, or letting herself be decked out in ropes of polished shells and vibranium beads over her lilac wedding gomesi and veil; those were a delight. No, the irritation was in having her sister as a guest instead of her parents, who couldn’t make the trip at their ages. Fortunately M’Baku made it a point to greet her personally and his overwhelming persona was more than enough to keep Eke and her new husband cowed for the afternoon.

The King was unable to attend but he did send his sister and Hashiki was delighted that Shuri was not only on-hand, but was equally impressed with the living bridge idea. “It would be a nice way to combine ecology and functionality! If you _have_ to live in this remote corner of Wakanda, so much the better to do so with access back to us!”

“You hush!” Hashiki teased her. “I don’t _have_ to live here, I _want_ to live here. The biodiversity of the Jabari territory flora has yet to be fully explored!”

“Hmmmm,” Shuri gave her a skeptical glance full of humor. “And the fact that you are marrying that _mountain_ in fur has nothing to do with it?”

“Oh he’s the _bonus_ ,” Hashiki countered sweetly. “Wait until you taste his cooking—he and his grandmother did most of the feast.”

Shuri looked over the long lines of tables piled with steaming fragrant platters and back again to Hashiki, who grinned.

“Ooooh, all right, I can see the appeal. Part of it anyway,” Shuri amended, giggling. “ _Someone_ has to keep him in line and it looks as if you’re already doing that.”

Hashiki let her smile agree and guided her former student towards the first table, handing her a plate.

The afternoon wound down and when it was time for the procession and marriage, Hashiki found herself waiting nervously before the two carved chairs that sat side by side on the raised stone in the center of the marketplace. As the bride it was her place to await the arrival of her groom, so she stood in her finery with a sack of newly minted Wakanda Half-Moons at her sandaled feet.

A few musicians played “Dawa Giwa” signaling the approach of the wedding party, and Hashiki looked up, feeling a sense of joy as M’Baku came into view, his sleeveless grey dashiki embroidered with sparkling beads of vibranium and silver. He wore thick cuffs of gorilla fur on each forearm, and curls of silver tribal paint along each temple, which made him look both exotic and mysterious, Hashiki thought with a shiver of excitement.

He and his entourage stopped a few feet in front of Hashiki; she turned to face him as the musicians finished their tune and went silent.

“Whose bride are you?” M’Baku boomed out and the traditional question rang through the marketplace.

“Yours,” Hashiki replied, although her voice was softer. “Whose groom are you?”

“Yours,” M’Baku responded. “Who brings us together?”

“We do! _Mu Jabari Kabilar_!” The people roared. “ _This_ man and _this_ woman. Her groom; his bride!”

M’Baku took Hashiki’s hand and kissed her palm before pressing it to his broad chest. “The heart of M’Baku Iko T’Sawa, chief of the Jabari of the White Gorilla belongs to _you_ now.”

Hashiki took his hand, kissed his enormous palm and placed it on her chest above her left breast. “The heart of Hashiki Iyola M’Wanga, daughter of the Priest tribe belongs to _you_ now,” she repeated, looking up and seeing nothing but the sweetness of M’Baku’s shy smile.

“Who declares us wed?” He rumbled to the crowd.

“WE DO!” the crowd roared back. “ _MU JABARI KABILAR_!”

M’Baku kissed her then, and Hashiki tried hard not to swoon but it was difficult given her racing heart and giddy joy. Warm, sweet, ohh so dear . . . When they ended the kiss the crowd cheered again, making such noise that flocks of birds protested all through the trees.

Then came the procession. She and M’Baku sat in the carved chairs as the crowd lined up and went past them, patting them, hugging them, each receiving a glittering Wakandan Half Moon as a dowry gift from Hashiki. 

Many brought gifts as well, and soon the space around the two chairs was piled high with carvings, pots, baskets, and other household goods.

“We may have to _dig_ our way out,” M’Baku muttered to Hashiki, who giggled as she looked around.

“I didn’t think there were this many baskets in all of _Wakanda_ ,” she admitted.

“There are and they’re all _here_ ,” M’Baku sighed before greeting the next villager. “Maybe we can convince Laki to eat a few.” 

Even her sister Eke managed a gift; a cooking pot of polished copper. Hashiki knew it was _supposed_ to be an insult—a useless gift in a world with microwaves and fancy appliances—but here in Jabari territory it fit in perfectly.

Much to her sister’s chagrin.

“Thank you, Eke! It’s perfect and we will use it _often_!” Hashiki assured her sister sweetly.

“Yes, dangling over flames and heating up . . . that will make us both think of _you_ ,” M’Baku added, a hint of menace in his expression. Both Eke and her husband moved on in a hurry and Hashiki fought not to laugh. 

“I don’t think she’ll be visiting very often.”

“ _This_ visit is one too many,” M’Baku pointed out.

The line dwindled down until finally the last person came shuffling forward towards them.

The Hyena.

“Queen in dreams and now in reality,” he rasped, bowing before M’Baku and Hashiki. When he raised his head, his good eye was twinkling. “My vision helped?”

Hashiki rose and with dignity she took one of the Hyena’s hands and pressed it to her forehead. “Your vision was true and I thank you for it, oh great Shaman.”

He laughed in his peculiar barking way, swaying a bit but proud and happy as he nodded. “When the sky and the earth talk; when the rivers laugh and the wind cries, I am there to listen. Tonight there will be a new song in the air. A duet.”

A few people smiled knowingly, and Hashiki blushed. M’Baku tried not to grin and shifted in his seat. “It takes no vision to predict that.”

“Perhaps not, but it will be good for the land,” the Hyena replied. “Are we not _all_ sprung from well-planted seed?”

And for the first time Hashiki saw her big, burly unflappable husband blush.


	14. Chapter 14

The house had been built under a huge jutting ledge of rock and the wide windows gave it a nearly 180 degree view of the village below. Hashiki had visited it a few times prior, but at the moment her attention was on matters other than the view. M’Baku ushered her inside, murmuring, “My blossom, welcome home.”

“My beloved, thank you,” she replied, leaving her sandals next to his at the door and stepping inside, enjoying the coolness of stone under her feet. M’Baku lit one of the hanging lamps and stood back looking at her.

“So,” he sighed. “What is your wish, my bride? A bath, perhaps? Sleep? Something . . . more?” 

Hashiki came over to him and slipped her arms around his waist, enjoying his scent of clean moss now tinted with sandalwood. “All of those sound lovely, although I believe the best order would be . . . something more, a bath and then sleep, yes?”

She felt him stroke her shoulders. “Yes,” M’Baku agreed. “Indeed.” 

Then his big hands slipped down to grip her ass and she grinned against his chest. “That’s _my_ bottom, you know.”

“Not at the moment,” came his gloat. “If everything I have is _yours_ , then everything you have is mine as well and so I am claiming this _baya_ here and now.”

“Oh is _that_ so?” she snickered.

He squeezed, making her press up against him and Hashiki could feel the thick ridge of his erection against her inner thigh. “It is sooooo,” M’Baku chuckled against her temple. 

Her arms tightened around him. “I have a complaint, husband mine,” Hashiki purred.

“And what is that?” His hands were tugging up the back of her gomesi, pulling the fabric clear before he caressed her ass again, fingers toying with the silk of her panties.

“We both have too many _clothes_ on,” she replied.

“I was thinking the same thing,” M’Baku rumbled. “Allow me to change that.”

And he did. Gently, almost reverently M’Baku helped Hashiki out of her wedding finery, carefully laying the dress and lingerie aside on a wicker chair before leaning back a moment to study her nudity in the low light.

M’Baku gave a deep, pleased sigh. “What a gift you are,” he told Hashiki quietly. “I am almost afraid to touch you and have you disappear the way you have so often in my dreams.”

Hashiki gave a nervous giggle. “I am going nowhere,” she assured him. “Especially without clothes.” His words made her tingle, and she reached for M’Baku, hands on his dashiki.

“Good,” he grinned. “I am willing to share much with my people but not _this_.”

“I should hope not,” Hashiki chided, tugging the shirt off and impatiently tossing it aside. This made M’Baku laugh.

“You seem in a hurry.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I have been waiting for _this_ feast all day.”

He smiled, and helped her get him out of his clothing, un-selfconscious about the process, but Hashiki kept making little impatient sounds that turned into a full-blown gasp when he was finally naked.

“It seems you’ve been hiding your _own_ viper,” she accused, gulping a little.

M’Baku gave a shrug that went with his grin. “This one is not as dangerous.”

Hashiki snorted. “That remains to be seen,” she muttered a little breathlessly. Already she felt heated and chilled by turns, her skin burning wherever M’Baku touched her, and impatiently she pulled him towards the bed.

“Please,” she managed, grinding against him. She wanted to explore every inch of his body but at the moment basic desire was stronger than patience.

“Yes,” M’Baku replied, his voice deep. He turned and tugged her down on top of him, running his hands down her bare spine. Hashiki shifted, straddling his hips, all too aware of the heavy ridge pressing between her thighs. She reached down, her hands guiding his as M’Baku curled his fingers around his shaft, stroking it along her slick cleft, growling a little as he did so.

“Blossom . . . “ he gasped, “Are you . . . ?”

“Yes,” Hashiki whispered back, slowly, sweetly impaling herself on him. She gave a groan of delight, her hands pressing on his broad chest as she began to rock, savoring the hot wild joy of feeling him deep within her.

Under her, M’Baku groaned as well, his hips thrusting up, matching her rhythm with his own strokes, his big hands tight on her ass. They rocked in harmony while the bed under them creaked, and when M’Baku shifted one hand around her hip to press his thumb against that little stiff spot of pleasure between her legs, Hashiki cried out, tensing in glorious, delirious joy as waves of bliss spiraled through her entire body. Seconds later M’Baku growled, his thrusts harder and she felt the splash of him deep within her in spurt after spurt.

After a moment, Hashiki let her boneless form drop against his chest, feeling how damp it was, and how strong his heartbeat sounded when she rested her head on it. 

She was unbelievably happy. “Thank you,” Hashiki murmured.

His rumbling laugh vibrated against her ear. “I have been _taken_ by a goddess and she thanks _me_ ,” he mused. “This is _only_ going to make my ego grow.”

Hashiki laughed as well, stretching up to nuzzle his beard. “Then we will all have to suffer I suppose. Forgive my impatience; it’s been a long time.”

“Ey,” M’Baku agreed. “For me as well. I suppose it’s a good thing neither of us are new to this; I’m not sure I would have had the patience to be gentle tonight.”

Hashiki shifted off of him, sticky but languorous. He rolled to face her. “Should I bring you a towel and start the bath?”

“In a bit,” Hashiki snuggled into M’Baku’s arms, “but right now I want to feel you and enjoy the scent of you. So . . . who was she?” came the soft question.

M’Baku managed a small smile. “Yukune. We grew up together here. She was . . . a fighter. Very fierce.”

“Then she would have made a good queen for you,” Hashiki replied, feeling a pang of jealousy. M’Baku must have seen it, because he kissed her forehead.

“No,” he replied quietly. “She was fond of me, but never more than that, my blossom. Her ambitions were higher. Yukune went to join the Dora Milaje.”

“That’s . . . impressive,” Hashiki admitted. One of M’Baku’s hands was toying her breasts, teasing the nipples and it was sweetly distracting.

“Indeed. She became a good one. Three years ago Yukune and two others stopped that elephant rampage during the old king’s walking tour through the river settlement south of the capital. She and another Dora Milaje died that day. Their names are carved on the cliff of the Fallen.”

“Oh,” Hashiki murmured, unsure what to say. She felt her jealousy waver a bit, but M’Baku nuzzled her cheek, his hand cupping her breast.

“She died honorably, doing what she was _meant_ to do,” he assured Hashiki. “I have kind memories of her, but that is _all_ , my beloved. _You_ are the one with my heart.” M’Baku pulled her closer and Hashiki felt his shaft twitch against her bare thigh.

“ _Ina son ku,_ ” They each whispered again at the same time, and a shiver went down Hashiki’s spine.

“That’s _eerie_ ,” she told him, but M’Baku smiled.

“It merely shows how we are attuned to each other. How . . . in touch.” He lifted his head to kiss her neck, and Hashiki slid her hands around his erection, caressing it.

“Oh my, is this for _me_?” she giggled, sliding one leg over his hip.

“ _All_ of it,” he promised with a sensual growl.

*** *** ***

By late the next morning, Hashiki was sore, smug, and hungry. The former she’d expected, the latter two amused her. After showering, she wandered into the enormous kitchen where she set to work making a hash of potatoes and onions, adding butter, spices and eggs into it as she hummed.

Memories of the night kept making her smile, and she murmured a little prayer of thanks to Bast for all the blessings. To be united with a man who was funny and strong and gentle and undeniably sensual had Hashiki feeling up in the clouds. He’d teased her to peaks of pleasure throughout the night, and had groaned her name along with several new nicknames that even now made her blush.

“I am a _wife_ ,” Hashiki mused aloud. “How . . . extraordinary.”

A few minutes later, clearly lured by the scent of food, a half-dressed M’Baku strode into the kitchen and picked Hashiki up, kissing her soundly. She tried not to squeal, or drop the pan as he did so.

“Queen of my heart, keeper of my pots, good morning!” he boomed cheerfully. “Foood!”

“Food,” Hashiki agreed. “Set me down and you can eat.”

“I will,” M’Baku told her, and carried her to the table, settling her onto his lap.

She protested, laughing. “Ridiculous! How on earth can I feed you _this_ way?”

His gaze told her exactly how, and Hashiki giggled again. “No, we are _done_ with that for a little while! I need to recover and we _both_ need fuel.”

“A very _little_ while,” he mock-warned, but gently he shifted her to another chair and stroked her cheek. “You are . . . _well_?” M’Baku asked in a softer voice.

She leaned her cheek into his palm. “Sore, but very pleased,” she assured him, adding a saucy wink that brought his grin back.

He thumped his chest. “As am _I_ ,” M’Baku admitted, arching an eyebrow. “You may _look_ gentle and sweet, but now I know that is all an _act_ , Hashiki of the demanding claws. I will be bearing _scars_ from you!”

“Pfft,” she waved a hand. “Two scratches is hardly anything! What about my poor _baya_?”

M’Baku pretended to look behind her back. “It’s well-padded,” he told her with a straight face. “It will bounce back.”

She snorted, trying to look offended and failing. They ate.

As M’Baku was clearing the table someone knocked on the door. Hashiki went to answer and found Mai Hikima standing there, eyeing her keenly.

“No limping,” she observed, “although the day is young. Good morning, grand-daughter mine!” Mai Hikima held out a basket with two bundles tied in cloth.

“Mai Hikima, my grandmother,” Hashiki replied, hugging the old woman tightly. She whispered, “I am blessed!”

“As am I,” Mai Hikima nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Now this. I didn’t give it to you at the wedding because . . . well you shall see. Is my lazy Yaro around?

M’Baku rose when the women came into the kitchen, bending to hug his grandmother while she chided him about his lack of a shirt. _Some things never change_ , Hashiki thought cheerfully. _Thank goodness._ She set the surprisingly heavy basket on the newly cleared table and Mai Hikima settled into a chair, her manner suddenly serious.

“A gift for you both,” she murmured. “Go on, open the first bundle.”

Hashiki reached to tug a corner free of its knot and the cloth fell open to reveal a pile of cut and polished gemstones: diamonds, sapphires, opals and others she couldn’t name glittered in the morning light coming through the kitchen window and she gasped.

“Babba,” M’Baku demanded, concerned. “Where did all this _come_ from?”

“Your grandfather’s caves,” she replied smugly. “Those holes in the mountain that he puttered around in _all_ those years, grandson. Did you know this part of Wakanda is on one of the most _diverse_ geographical faults thanks to that rock from the sky hitting us?”

“I do _now_ ,” came M’Baku’s reply. “But how did he know?”

“He didn’t, not at first.” Mai Hikima replied. “ _I_ did. Stone by stone we built this fortune to stand against troubled times, and now it’s yours.”

“No we _can’t_!” Hashiki protested, and M’Baku chimed in, but Mai Hikima stamped her stone walking stick on the floor to silence them.

“Don’t be idiots! You’ll take them with my love or I’ll _beat_ you _both_ with my stick!” She cackled. “Listen to me: if not for you, then for the future. Use them to buy supplies for the bridge; invest them for the great-grandchildren; do what you wish. I have all that I need and my time is far shorter than yours.”

“Babba,” M’Baku knelt to look her eye to eye. “Very few things scare me, but you do, always. Thank you.”

“Good,” she told him with a stern smile. “As it should be. And the other bundle then.”

Hashiki could hardly stop staring at the gems, but she unfastened the other bundle to reveal . . . .

Seeds.

A huge variety, some vaguely familiar, others completely foreign to her. She turned a puzzled expression to Mai Hikima, who laughed again.

“While my husband collected rocks, _I_ collected these. They come from some of the farthest places here in Jabari territory, Hashiki, and I have kept them safe for years. Even I, with all my years of experience don’t know these plants but I daresay _you_ can figure out what they are.”

Astounded, Hashiki blinked, looking from the intriguing pile back to Mai Hikima. She rose and hugged the old woman hard.

“You sly, sly woman!” Hashiki laughed. “All this time you had _already_ explored the land!”

“Not _all_ of it, but enough,” Mai Hikima agreed. “I was going to use them to bribe you to stay, but you had the good sense to fall in love with _this_ one here---“ she poked M’Baku, “so now they are a wedding gift.”

“This cache is _amazing_!” Hashiki muttered, gently sifting through the pile, examining them closely. “I need to get out the microscope. Dearest, would you please----?”

M’Baku gave his grandmother a suffering look. “So ends the honeymoon. Thank you for that, Babba. Thank you SO much.”

Mai Hikima laughed.

_Next: Epilog_


	15. Chapter 15

Epilog

The Great Green Bridge took root a few months after the wedding, and the majority of the work came from the villagers themselves, with assistance from the Botanical Laboratories in the capital. Teams of farmers and scientists selected plants and cultivated the strongest stock while bio-engineers built a bamboo framework, packing nutrients and enzymes in each hollow bamboo segment to feed and nourish the plants so that the framework would gradually be absorbed into the network of vines. 

By the time the rainy season came, both ends of the bridge—the Jabari side and the Wakandan side—were well established. Long jute cables from higher up on the cliffs helped support it, and Hashiki herself headed up the team that planted the four Princess tree saplings at the bottom of the chasm. Two stood on the Jabari side of the Chilling Mists and two on the Wakandan side.

“Their usual growth rate everywhere else is a meter or more a year, but with Vibranium in the soil, it’s twice that. Sometimes triple,” Hashiki told her husband. “We’ve also braced them so they’ll root well.”

“Given all the fuss you’re putting into them, they should,” M’Baku grumbled but it was an act, she knew. Her husband was extremely proud of the bridge and the way she’d organized everyone from both sides to create it.

He did insist they spend weekends away from the project though, and the two of them would use the time exploring the far reaches of Jabari territory together, savoring the beautiful solitude of the country. Hashiki looked forward to those trips as she and M’Baku learned much more about each other as well.

“I do not like bees,” he told her one evening as they enjoyed a small campfire deep in a small green valley. The hike had been a climb, but worth it since the view of the night sky glowed with stars.

“I already _knew_ that,” Hashiki reminded him with a roll of her eyes. “What about other animals? Dogs? Cats? Birds?”

“Dogs have their place, and I have known a cat or two,” M’Baku admitted. “Although I did not have time to care for a pet when I was younger. The well master, T’wara always had kittens about, though,” he smiled at the memory, “I _did_ like the ones without tails. What about you?”

“Oh we had a one-eyed bat that lived in the thatch of my grandmother’s garden shed. Fuka-fuka was his name. Not really a pet, though. He would come out and take care of any mosquitoes around dusk. Other pets . . . .” Hashiki shook her head. “No, my parents were busy enough with the cattle, so I only knew how to look after _big_ things.”

“Is that a comment about _me_?” M’Baku wanted to know, giving her a mock-stern look. “I think that is a veiled insult and as your husband I am _affronted_.”

Hashiki giggled, and snuggled closer to him, enjoying the weight of his arm around her shoulders. “I would _never_ insult you! All I am saying is that for most of my life I’ve been used to . . . big creatures. I have no experience with . . . _little_ ones.”

“Pfft, they are exactly the _same_ as big creatures, but smaller,” M’Baku snorted.

This struck Hashiki as hilarious and she laughed, pressing her face against the side of his chest until he grew alarmed and gently pulled her back to look in her eyes. 

“It was funny but not _that_ funny,” M’Baku grumbled.

Hashiki simply grinned up at him, reaching to pull his face down for a good, solid kiss. When they broke apart, he was the one grinning.

“Maybe it _was_ that funny,” he conceded.

“Only in context,” Hashiki told him. “Husband, you are a smart man, are you not?”

“I am,” M’Baku agreed, but he looked wary. Hashiki nodded thinking how adorable he was.

“Yes you are. Think back over what _I_ have said and see if you can figure out what is so funny about it. While you do that, I’m going to get the sliced mangos for us to roast.” She rose and patted his shoulder, still smiling, leaving him to ponder the conversation.

Hashiki fished around in the travel sack, finding the packet made of banana leaves and twine, humming as she undid it. When she turned a moment later, M’Baku was there, looming large, his eyes wide.

“You only know how to take care of big things!” he repeated, holding her gaze.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t know how to take care of little things!” M’Baku continued. “So I ask myself why does my wife worry about taking care of little things? Then of course I tell her that big creatures are the same as small creatures and I am thinking of kittens and birds and meerkats instead of . . . BABIES.”

Hashiki smiled so hard it hurt.

M’Baku made his mouth into an O and began to quiver, his eyes bright. Hashiki thought he was like a volcano of excitement, ready to explode, so she spoke up quickly. “I suspected it a while ago and when Mai Hikima and I visited the Hyena, he said something to me that all but confirmed it.”

“What. Did. He. Say?” M’Baku asked, still looking tense and delighted at the same time.

Hashiki imitated the shaman as best she could, making her voice the strange blend of growl and squeal. “In a season’s time, the blossom indeed bears her fruit.” She patted her stomach to re-emphasize the point, and was unprepared when M’Baku scooped her off her feet, hugging her tightly.

“ _Ina son Ku_!” he roared happily. “ _Ina son ku da jaririn_!”

“Put me _down_!” Hashiki laughed. “I’m not a gourd to be _shaken_ you know!”

Stricken, M’Baku set her back on her feet and gently touched her belly, his big hand spreading nearly from hip to hip. “Oh my blossom this is true? This is our _farin ciki_?”

“Yes,” Hashiki assured him, laying her hand over his. It looked small; like a starfish splayed on a rock, but she felt the heat of M’Baku’s skin rising against her palm.

He dropped to his knees, arms sliding around her hips, pressing the side of his face to her belly. “You, in there,” he rumbled. “Your father speaks to you. _Ina son ku_.”

“All you are going to hear right _now_ is my dinner rumbling through me,” Hashiki warned but she stroked his hair, feeling such a surge of love that she felt rooted to the ground. 

“All the better. A mother must eat,” he replied. “And as for you---“ M’Baku lightly tapped a finger on her belly. “—We have much to discuss.”

Hashiki snickered and it stretched into a yawn. “Perhaps later. Come to bed, husband. There is time enough for discussions tomorrow.”

He rose up, his arms sliding along her frame, pulling her close against him and Hashiki melded against his big frame, feeling protected and dearly loved.

“Tomorrow,” M’Baku sighed, his voice deep. “That is what you have brought me, my blossom. All the tomorrows. All _our_ tomorrows. There is no man luckier than I am right now.”

Hashiki felt her eyes tear up. “Mai Hikima was right; we are like the vines, husband. Entwined, supporting each other. Come, curl around me and we will start our tomorrows right now.”

M’Baku chuckled, and followed her into the tent to do just that.

End

_(if you are interested in a one-shot story about the pregnancy, please let me know in the comments, and thank you for reading!)_


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